


The Times

by TheTriggeredHappy



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6263341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTriggeredHappy/pseuds/TheTriggeredHappy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short stories detailing the many adventures that Wander goes through.</p><p>(Mainly one-shots, some longer than others)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wander and Screwball, a long, long time ago.

  
The sound of cheerful laughter seemed to echo against the metal of the ship. Each surface that wasn't neon was painted pastel, and everything that wasn't pastel had a sticker or twelve covering it like constellations. Bright, blinding, like a visual falsetto, somewhere between perfectly bright and fake to a fault. The two who stood inside its kaleidoscope walls both matched it in entirely different ways. The conversation bent and twisted at strange angles in the hallway, distorting as distance was gained like a face in a hall of mirrors. It only grew clear when they were within a dozen yards or so, despite the insistent echoing that seemed prominent on the ship.

"And that's the best pair 'a socks I've ever seen, lemme tell ya!" finished the shorter of the two, orange and smiling and radiating only wholehearted goodness. "I'd have gone an' bought one, but, folks like me gotta keep movin' before someone catches us!"

"Just one sock?" the mischievous banana-looking creature snipped, before laughing much louder than needed. Everything about him seemed almost crooked; his grin, his demeanor, his mannerisms. "Moving around everywhere, huh? Like old times, right, old buddy? Maybe that's why everyone calls you Tumbleweed!"

"I haven't heard that ol' nickname in ages, Screwball!" Wander laughed. "Wander's been the one everyone's picked up for a long time."

"I wander why!" They both got a good laugh out of that one, continuing onward through the ship.

"I gotta say, you sure do know how to make a ship feel friendly!" Wander stopped to peer at some of the stickers. "Is this one a scratch-and-sniff? That's great! And this one is shiny, wow, your ship is so amazing!"

Screwball didn't stop moving though, and Wander continued after him, having to dash to catch up. "Is this what you were wantin' to show me bad enough that you hunted me down through half'a this star system?"

"Nope! It's even better!" Screwball stopped and turned to beam at Wander in a way that most would consider just a little frightening. Wander wasn't phased. "I've had the breakthrough of the century, old pal! Our old dream from all those years ago is finally possible! I, Screwball..." He paused for dramatic effect. "...have figured out a way to make every single person laugh without fail!"

"Whaaaaaaat?!" Wander gasped, eyes lighting up with joy. "Really?! That's... That's... That's amazing! You're amazing! Everyone? You mean it?"

"I mean it!" He turned and moved through the sliding doors, Wander now excitedly bouncing right at his tail. "Old buddy old pal, Wander, I finally figured out how to make our dream a reality and it's so much simpler than I could've ever dreamed!"

"This is so exciting! Every single person we can find, happy as can be, just like that! I can hardly believe it! This is just amazing!" Wander seemed like he might bounce right off the walls, but he stopped bouncing when he looked around at this new room. "Oh, wowza!"

The walls of the room were covered in chalkboards, wires, screens and keyboards all laid out in a way that hardly made any sense. Pinboards showcased pictures with yarn strung between them, and a single dartboard sat on one side of the room, abandoned. All kinds of writing that Wander could barely read the handwriting of, let alone understand, lined almost everywhere he looked.

"Screwball, is there a screw loose?" Wander asked, getting a laugh from the scientist. "What is all this?"

"My plan!" Screwball spun to look at him, grinning wide as he broke out his accordion with a grand flourish. "Let me explain to you! Through our favorite method—song!"

"Aww, sorry pal, I left my banjo back a ways, and you can't hardly play without someone playin' right alongside you," Wander apologized. Screwball waved it off.

"Ah, hard to find a rhyme for most of this anyways," he said. "But regardless, the plan that I have so far is as such—" He whirled away a chalkboard and it rolled across the room dangerously fast, nearly toppling over. "I've made the blueprints and done the calculations for all of this a hundred times over. With my methods, no matter how hard anyone tries, I can FORCE them the laugh for as long as I want, nonstop! Whole cities, no, whole PLANETS on bended knee, laughing hard enough to shake the ground they walk on! Whether they like it or not, with enough time, we can have he whole galaxy unable to contain their giggles! Beautiful, isn't it, Wander?" He spun around and saw that...

Wander wasn't smiling anymore.

"Wait, you'll... Screwball, you can't just force folks to laugh," Wander said, voice uncharacteristically quiet. "That ain't fair to them."

Screwball's smile only wavered for a second. "Wander, this is what we always wanted to do. Happiness to the whole galaxy, remember? Didn't you want to give everyone a fair shot to be happy?"

"Yeah, I do. But you've got it all wrong. Forcin' all of 'em to laugh don't make them happy all of a sudden. Makin' them start with the giggles against their will ain't any better than takin' over a whole planet like some of them big scary guys out there. You're doin' the same thing as they are," Wander reasoned. His eyes weren't wide with excitement anymore. Now he looked weary of the boards around him. "Y'all have good intentions, be it takin' over planets or makin' laugh machines, I know that, but... this ain't how you do things."

"Wander, you can't back out now, not after all of this!" Screwball protested, smile suddenly sinister. "I still need your help to finish this! I need you to just, you know. Ask around, collect some favors, I've heard the stories about you just like everyone else! You've got some debts due from all the helping you do, and if you use that to help me, we can help even more to double pay them back! See?"

Wander was shaking his head now. "No, Screwball. This ain't right. You gotta let folks CHOOSE to accept your help. You can't force friendship, just like you can't force happiness. I'm sorry to say this, and... and it breaks my heart, it really does." If his pained expression was anything to go by, he was being honest. "I refuse to help you with this. This won't make anyone happy. I can't help you make people sad."

Screwball kept smiling. "Would you look at that! First time ever, old Tumbleweed doesn't want to help someone! You're a big old hypocrite now, you know that, right?"

"Don't call me that. That ain't even my name." Wander tipped his hat up on his head, turning to leave. "I'm sorry, Screwball. Thank you so much for showin' me this neat ship. It's really great!"

Wander heard the faint hum of the accordion filling with air and he only barely managed to sidestep the attack that followed a few seconds later. "Not so fast, old buddy." Screwball was giggling now, and Wander turned slowly, hands out at his sides. "Look, even if you don't help me with this, I still need you, pal."

"To... to be a friend in this challenging time? And help guide you on the right path?" Wander asked hopefully.

"No way, nomad! That hat of yours, it's magic, right? Can give you anything you want?" Wander gripped the hat by the rim protectively. "Well if you aren't going to help me get my resources, then that hat is a good plan B, wouldn't you say?"

Wander ducked out of the way of the next attack nimbly and stared Screwball down. "Screwball, I don't wanna fight, just let me leave," Wander said, eyes locked on the accordion.

"Wow, no big speech on friendship? No climactic spiel about all the times we've had? Or maybe—" Wander dashed away from the next several attacks, all in quick succession. "—you know that playtime is finally over?" He erupted into laugher again, nearly falling into hysterics as he fired volley after volley, chord after chord.

"I'm leavin', Screwball!" Wander announced, stamping his foot once and making a dash for the door, jumping over and sliding under the oncoming attacks. Screwball couldn't hear him over his roaring, cackling, screeching laughter.

Then Wander was gone, on the run again, and Screwball was left in the room alone, staring at the wreckage of all his hard work. Years, wasted, with the chalkboards cracked and crumbled because of his own attacks turned against him, screens shattered and smoking.

Screwball didn't stop laughing. "Smart as always, right, Wander?!" he shouted, with no reply. "Making me hit my own work while you ran away! Coward! Weakling! Naïve nomad!" No response. "I'll rebuild! You'll see me again, Wander! One day!"

One day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm open to requests for this, by the way :P This whole show is really cute and I have a ton of ideas right now. We'll see where it goes, though! Thanks for reading!]


	2. The Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anniversary for the first time Wander went onto Hater's ship. You'd think Hater would learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Happy Birthday, Craig Krackenman! Thank you for this amazing show!
> 
> (Written on mobile again)]

 

Hater was just about at his wit's end.

He could tolerate his scramble up and down the leaderboard. He could handle when planets were annoying and harder to conquer. He could even handle the random appearances of the orange monstrosity of friendship and happiness that always ruined his day.

But he couldn't tolerate the aforementioned pest walking around his ship like he owned the place.

Every once and a while, Hater would manage to capture the banjo-playing freak and his weird horselady friend. Capture being a very loose term for it. Somehow, every time without fail he would be walking through the ship and he would find Wander just sitting and chatting animatedly with HIS guards, the guards not even batting their eye at the situation. Like they were USED to it or something! Like this was normal! Which it probably was, which was even WORSE!

What he hated the most was how he found HIMSELF getting used to it, too. He stopped being shocked and enraged by these occurrences and just ended up being mildly annoyed and exasperated. He even stopped roughing him up whenever he got the chance, knowing that it really just ended up with a wrecked hall or two and Wander looking even happier with himself. He would just drag him down to the hold and lock him up again.

And minutes later, he would always be out. And so it continued.

While he sat and ate breakfast, he heard the sound of music coming down the hall, and he sighed deeply, irritated already. He watched with annoyance as Wander strutted by, strumming his banjo with some Watchdogs in tow, singing some cheerful nonsense tune. "My head feels stuffed with cotton an' I, I remember how we, sang together an' we, watched November go by..." Hater knew the term for his nonsense syllables was 'scatting', and he had no idea how he learned the vocabulary.

"It's too early for this," Hater groaned, getting out of his chair and slumping after them.

"Oh! Hater!" Wander said chipperly, turning and waving happily. "Good mornin', ain't it just a LOVELY day today?"

"Blah blah, going to destroy you, blah blah, I'm the greatest in the Galaxy, blah blah blah, can we just cut to the chase?" He picked up Wander by the scruff of the neck, dragging him away, grumbling under his breath.

"Bye, Matt Jackson and Charles! See you for lunch, Pat! Keep it cool, Dan!" Wander said to the Watchdogs as he was dragged off. They all returned their goodbyes and continued with their duties.

"Boy, Hater, it's awful early for you to be awake already! Somethin' special happenin' today or what?" Wander asked, blinking up at the conqueror.

"No," he said flatly.

"Well, you know what they always say! Never too early to start the day with a smile!" Wander reached up and lifted the corners of Hater's mouth, forcing him into a grin. Hater smacked his hand off and continued on. "Say, Hater, what day is today anyways?"

Hater frowned even further, glaring down at Wander. "What?"

"It's awful hard to keep track with all this travelin', and I wanted to double-check to make sure I'm not missin' nothin!"

"Like what?" Hater asked despite himself.

"Well, I wanted to make sure it wasn't one of the Watchdogs' birthdays! I know 'em all, you know," Wander beamed. "I don't think there's half as many this month, but I wanna double triple check just in case!"

"It's, uh... Twentieth? Maybe? Why am I telling you! Shut up! You're a prisoner, not a guest!" Hater punched in the code to get into the prison block angrily.

He noted after a few moments that Wander had gone silent, totally still. He glared down and was surprised to see Wander staring at the ground. "What? Forget someone's anniversary? Need to buy a suit for a wedding? Miss a baby shower?" Hater prodded with a snarl.

"Nah, nothin' important like that," Wander said, brightening up a bit again. "Just didn't realize that time was passin' that fast is all!"

Hater found the cell where Wander's violent blue friend was still sound asleep. "Don't care." He threw Wander inside and shut the door again. "Stay."

It took twenty minutes for him to run into Wander again back upstairs while he was talking to Peepers. "And as you can see sir, if we conquer this small system over here, we'll have this system surrounded, making it nearly impossible for them to attempt a counter-attack," Peepers finished, pointing at several areas on the map as he spoke.

"Say, I've been there before! Awful nice place, and they've got the best ham sandwiches in the whole--" Wander was cut off as Hater picked him up by the front, looking ready to deck him in he face.

"Sir!" Peepers snapped, looking annoyed. "What have I told you about--"

"But Peepers, he keeps escaping!" whined the skeletal dictator. "And he just keeps coming back to bug me!"

"He's not doing anything, and as long as the ship stays intact, I could care less if he's running around! Every single time you two fight, the ship needs repairs again by the end of it, and I'm tired of it! Just let him do his thing until we need to get work done, then kick him out somewhere far away where he won't bug you!" Peepers said, stomping his foot. "He's only slowing us down every time you try and fight him, just leave him alone and we'll actually get things done for once!"

"Can't I destroy him just a LITTLE bit?" Hater whined.

"No! Put him down and focus! Or do you WANT to drop down another few spots again?" Peepers shouted.

"Well, golly, it sure sounds like y'all are busy, I might as well just leave you be, we can pick this up over brunch if ya like?" Wander offered cheerfully. "It would be a nice way to spend the anniversary!"

"...The what?" Peepers and Hater asked at the exact same time. Wander beamed.

"The anniversary! Of the first time I got to come aboard this here ship of yours!" he said cheerfully. "Boy, how the time sure flies when you're havin' fun!"

Peepers scratched the back of his neck. "Oh. Right. That was a whole year ago," Peepers murmured. "Huh."

"You know what we should do? We should throw a party!" Wander said gleefully. "All the Watchdogs can come too, an' we can all eat and dance and talk about all the fun times and we can even play some games if y'all feel like it, and--"

"No! We are NOT having a party!" Hater said, waving his arms angrily. "Nuh-uh, no way no how, NO."

"C'mon Hatey, if you want you can even do the thing where you try and destroy us afterwards! Then it'll be like... like a send-off party!" Wander offered, smiling widely.

Hater looked ready to protest, but then he paused and thought for a long moment. "That... I can't believe I'm saying this, but that actually sounds like a GREAT idea!" He grinned menacingly, fingertips crackling with electricity. "Yes, a celebration, then an execution! Classy and formal way to finally get rid of you!"

"Sir, you can't be serious, he's just trying to dis--"

"Peepers, go and tell the cook that we're having a party, and to start baking as much as he can! We're having the most radical of celebrations before he finally meets his demise!" Wander cheered, and Hater pointedly ignored it. "I just hope we have time... Oh, how could I have forgotten such an important day?! What kind of enemy am I?"

"D'aww, it's alright, Hater, I forgive you! I nearly forgot too, if it makes you feel any better," Wander offered kindly.

"Hmph." Hater shrugged him off. "Peepers, did I stutter?! Get to it!"

"Yes sir!" Peepers yelped, dashing off down the hall as Hater began crackling with lightning, anger mounting slowly but surely.

"Ooh, what color should the balloons be?" Wander asked, already practically bouncing in place. "Blue's a nice color, or maybe green, or yellow--"

"I don't care about the balloons," Hater said flatly. "Whatever color works is fine. As long as they're awesome enough for a death party."

"I think you mean a killer party," Wander said playfully, nudging Hater's arm good-naturedly.

"No, I mean... Wait, was that a pun?!" Hater groaned and face palmed as Wander laughed. "Why are you like this. Why did it take a whole year to kill you."

"Aww, c'mon, buddy, that's not a partyin' spirit! Oh, that reminds me--music! I know that you've got some good music we can play!"

"Pssh, yeah, my music is the greatest," Hater said, rolling his eyes. "Duh."

"You should go pick some out, I'll go and give invitations to all the Watchdogs! We gotta hurry if we want this party to happen today! Time's a-wastin', Hatey!"

Hater was halfway to his room when he realized that he probably shouldn't have let Wander run off unsupervised.

Surprisingly, Wander and Sylvia were actually still on the ship when he finally tracked them down an hour later. Peepers and the horse (?) were engaging in some kind nonverbal battle that mainly consisted of glaring and grumbling angrily, while Wander was hopping between groups of Watchdogs all setting up for the party. There was a sound system, a dance floor, the beginnings of a food table, some arcade games--all in all, Hater had to admit that it... actually looked kinda fun.

He made a mental note to drag this party out for as long as he could before doing the killing thing. Y'know, so they could party longer. That's why. Because of the whole party thing. Yeah.

He managed for find a few ways to get involved in setting up (mostly just countering whatever Wander or Sylvia said every once and awhile because he had an image to maintain, darn it). The whole thing was done within the hour, and before he knew it, the shebang was underway.

Hater paid close attention to the two prisoners during the party (to make sure they didn't get away, of course). Sylvia stuck mostly to the karaoke and food table, while Wander darted around the whole room ten or eleven times. He really did know every single Watchdog, which would be impressive if it was literally anyone else. Hater was beginning to wonder if the furry creep was biologically programmed to just be the most infuriating possible friendly type.

Stupid little Sunshine Banjo Face.

Hater looked around and noted that Wander was finishing yet another full circuit of the room and was nearby to where Hater had taken to sulking until people got off the arcade machines. Wander caught his eye almost instantly (grop, is the little weirdo magic or something?!) and waved. "Heya, Hatey! Havin' fun?" he called cheerfully. The Watchdogs he was chatting with all looked over at Hater expectantly.

Hater froze for a moment. He finally shrugged, glancing to the side. "It's fun and whatever," he mumbled. When he looked back up, Wander was positively beaming.

"What?! Leave me alone!" Hater said defensively, crossing his arms and turning. "Wandering weirdo!"

"Aww, I'm glad you like the party!" Wander pointedly said nothing about the insult. Hater started walking and Wander followed him cheerfully. "Me an' Peepers worked real hard making sure it was gonna turn out! Sylvia helped too, but she got here so late we were just about almost done with the whole thing anyways!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Hater said dismissively.

"Y'know, I think her and Mister Peepers would make real good friends if they weren't so set on not liking eachother."

"They hate each other's gut," Hater said flatly, still trying to get through the crowd and over to the food table. Wander had no problems somehow navigating the crowd.

"I guess you have a point..." he admitted. "Either way, when they do work together on something, those two are a real great team! Imagine how well they'd work if they were best buddies! A fella can dream, I guess."

"Whatever, Sunshine Banjo Face," Hater muttered, glaring down at the furry nomad.

He was surprised to see Wander's face split into a thrilled smile. Wander squeaked happily, tackling the conqueror in a hug. "Oh boy, a nickname!" Wander cheered, positively ecstatic.

"What? No! It's an insult!" Hater protested loudly, trying to shove him off, seeing Watchdogs turning to look at them and laughing.

"Full of affection!" Wander added, hugging even tighter.

"Urgh!" Hater growled loudly, prying Wander off of him and shoving him away roughly. "I cannot wait to kill you later!"

"Oh, 'course you are," Wander said with a smile, and Hater got the weirdest impression that he was being facetious as he trotted away to talk to Sylvia, waving at Hater as he went. "Happy anniversary, Hatey!"

"Whatever! Gonna destroy you! Gonna do it!" Hater said loudly, plucking up some food and returning to his slouching.

(Of course, Wander and Sylvia were gone ten minutes later. All the Watchdogs swore they didn't see a single thing.)

(Hater wished he wasn't used to this.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hope y'all enjoyed! In other news. I got a tumblr, @thetriggeredhappy is the username, might post something one day that isn't trash! We can all hope... Have a good one!]


	3. The Fancy After-Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wander and Sylvia have a conversation following the fancy party. Wander ponders wonders a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Who has two thumbs and too many ideas? This author! (I let this idea run away with me a little bit, haha)
> 
> In the meantime, who else is hyped for the time travel episode? It's gonna be amazing, I can tell!]

 

D, D, A, A.

 

It wasn’t that it was a particularly long journey, just a particularly quiet one. This pocket of the galaxy wasn’t terribly exciting, due to the lack of habitable planets, atmospheres too thin or dense or poisonous or hot or cold. Not too many planets total could even _begin_ with the process of starting life, period, and it wasn’t reasonable to expect it to crop up individually in too many places. The odds were a little bit slim for that. This corner was at the bottom of the list for possible life.

 

B minor, B minor, F-flat minor, F-flat minor.

 

But at some point, at least one or two races of organisms managed to create space travel, and they sent a couple of ships out, which instilled very basic life forms all over the place. Even projects that were unsuccessful and crashed managed to spread small traces of bacteria, and those managed to survive and multiply and grow until there was life nearly everywhere. Not new life, but life nonetheless. And so over the many, many years that the universe existed, life was spread.

 

G, G, D, D.

 

Now there was life everywhere. Once one or two groups managed to get good enough at space travel, they began going all over the place, and they shared their knowledge with everyone else, making the process of learning go centuries faster in even the most basic of civilizations, until they too entered the space travel odyssey. Imperialism was the law of the land, and everyone at once worked to become the best civilization. But the universe was so big that anyone could as an individual have a shot at being the best, if they chose. Everyone could’ve gone into their own corner if they really wanted. But then folks started getting a little bit too competitive.

 

G, G, A, A.

 

That’s probably how the whole villainous leaderboard thing started. With everyone wanting to be the best, of course some people kept track of the top dogs, the most powerful of all the dictators. It would’ve been so easy to begin uniting under one ruler peacefully, but fear was a strong and easy weapon to handle. Not more reliable, or kinder, or more clever. But it was easy and it would always work. Everyone was scared of something. The possibility of you and your whole civilization being wiped out was a pretty common fear. A lot of people would only ever _wonder_ what that had to be like, for someone to actually go through with the extinction of an entire people. Not many really knew. Not very many villains could commit to something that terrible. Most villains, no matter what they said, could never commit total genocide. Nobody was low enough for that. Rather, very, very, very few were.

 

“So. _Someone’s_ quiet.” Wander broke out of his thoughts when Sylvia spoke, tipping back up his hat from where he had begun nodding off. “Usually you sing along when you play. Or at least scat to the music. You don’t usually get all melancholy on me like this.” Wander sat up from how he was leaning on her neck, sitting properly in the saddle again.

 

“Sorry, Syl. Just all tuckered out from all that dancin’ and whatnot,” Wander replied, strumming his banjo once more for good measure before he returned it to his back. “That sure was a fancy party, wouldn’tcha say?”

 

“Yeah, we broke out the pearls and bowtie and everything. But it was a lousy party, really. Talk about _boring,_ ” Sylvia bemoaned. “The sandwiches were the only thing it had going for it, then the old bag had to ruin _that_ for me, too.”

 

“Aww, c’mon, Syl, don’t tell me you didn’t have _any_ fun!” Wander said earnestly. “There had to be _somethin’_ you liked!”

 

“Well…” Sylvia thought about it. “I guess Emperor Awesome’s attempt to flirt with me was at least _endearing_. And watching Hater suck up to the queen was funny. And thwarting the assassination attempts on you kept me on my toes, so… three things that weren’t completely terrible, there you go.”

 

Wander nodded cheerfully. “Exactly! There ya go! What’d I tell ya? There’s always a silver lining if you look hard enough, and it there ain’t one there yet, then you gotta make one!”

 

Sylvia seemed to think this over, before turning her head to look at Wander, her smile slight. “You’re right, buddy.” She turned her eyes back to the emptiness of space stretching out before them. “Man, what did the universe do to deserve you?” Almost like an afterthought.

 

“Well, golly, you’re gonna make me blush,” Wander said, smiling to himself. Sylvia nudged him slightly, and he giggled, returning to his idle strumming, now picking up a more cheerful tune, singing along happily. This one was all about true love and a long journey and getting lost and in the end, love wins anyways. He always remembered all the words.

 

Sylvia waited until the bridge to interrupt. “Hey, pal, wanna head out and find somewhere to eat? All this walking is making my stomach wanna mutiny.”

 

“Sure thing, Syl!” And he was back to his singing, the soft, cold melancholy of space pressed back again, at least for a little while.

 

The song ended, and Wander kept strumming, chords mixing together and sounding nice, until he found more words to sing. His mind turned around in his head between the notes, between strums and plucks, to the reason he always started playing. His goal was to fill the empty void of space with music until everyone had a song to sing along to. Sylvia tried to hum along every once and awhile, but for the most part she sat out, just walking and listening and walking some more.

 

“Can I ask you something, buddy?” Sylvia finally said, looking back at him.

 

“Yes’m,” Wander hummed.

 

“That old dutchess whatzername—“

 

“Lady Entozoa,” Wander chimed cheerfully.

 

“Yeah, whatever, her,” Sylvia said absently. “Anyways, you know why she actually had everyone there, right?”

 

“Um…” Wander thought for a few moments, perplexed. “Shoot, I knew I forgot somethin’. Wasn’t it something about… a competition of sorts? I was mostly just there because it sounded like fun at the time and you thought it could have nice food.”

 

“Well, the point of the dinner was because she wanted to choose who would be her successor,” Sylvia explained. Wander nodded. “As in, who would get to take over her evil kingdom after she ‘passed away’?” Sylvia included air quotes with this. “Well, I figured it was because, y’know… she was super old? But I guess she... it… whatever, just wanted to possess someone new.”

 

“Yes’m,” Wander nodded, tuning the high string on his banjo absently.

 

“Well why was she so attached to the idea of _you_ taking over for her, do you think? Or, her taking over you? Or. Something. I’m not sure if it’s a mutual benefit agreement, or… whatever. But why you, out of everyone there?”

 

Wander rode out a brief silence as he finished tuning. “Well… could be a lot of things, I guess,” Wander said finally. “Could’a been because she liked me best and all. Or because she thought I was the worst evildoer there, because of the whole ‘top wanted fugitive’ thingawhatzit…” He strummed once, and plucked away a simple tune absently. A B C D E C E, E-flat B E-flat, D B-flat D. “Maybe because she thought I was the strongest for some reason. Maybe because of the whole ‘possession’ thing, and she thought that by takin’ over me, she’d have a form that would last an awful long time.” He suddenly looked up, gaze snapping to Sylvia’s. “Ooh, maybe it’s because she had a crush on me all those years!”

 

Sylvia skidded to a stop, head spinning to stare at him, incredulous. “She wh-wh-what!?” Sylvia gasped, eyes wide as plates.

 

“Yep!” Wander hummed. “Way back when she wasn’t so far into that form yet, and I was a bit new to the galaxy. She thought I was all funny and she kept huntin’ me down to give me gifts an’ such, and she was so flirty and whatnot, and I felt terrible o’ course, because I didn’t like her back, an’ I _tried_ settin’ her up with someone else, an’ that didn’t work out since she just conquered planets instead of goin’ out to meet new folks and say hi, and there was a big thing where she tried to tell me that she liked me and I knew that if she told me then she would just like me forever, and that sure wouldn’t end well so I didn’t want her to, and I just kept tellin’ her that we were only friends and she didn’t like that one bit, and…” He saw Sylvia’s expression and trailed off. “Heh. Yeah, long story short, she had a crush on me. Guess she still does. Did? Can sandwiches have crushes?” He paused. “Either way. That might’a been why, too.”

 

“Huh… wow.” Sylvia turned her eyes to the figurative road again. “Hey, when was the last time you liked someone?”

 

“Who was the last person we met?” Wander asked simply.

 

“No, the last person who you liked more than most other people,” Sylvia specified.

 

“You! You’re my best friend, you’re definitely up on the top of my list.”

 

“Aww… thanks, pal, you’re my best friend too. Not what I was going for though. I mean romantically. Y’know, lovey-dovey picturesque wedding, rose petals and moonlit walks through the park, all of that mushy junk that you’re obsessed with.”

 

Wander took a few seconds to think this over. And then a couple more. Then a minute, then two, then the silence was stretching on too long. Space stretched out in every direction. Wander had stopped playing altogether, just thinking.

 

Sylvia finally broke the silence with a little laugh. “Heh, wow, you… don’t remember? You seem to be thinking pretty hard.”

 

“Had a lot of years to think back through…” Wander murmured.

 

“Yeah, I getcha. After a few years, it gets hard to—“

 

“Had to be before this galaxy, if I did,” Wander mumbled, seeming almost like he didn’t hear her. “And… before the last one, with all the Major Threat whatnot… and…”

 

Sylvia suddenly realized that this seemed suspiciously like Sharing Time again (which for Wander was surprisingly rare). It wasn’t often that Wander talked about any time before the immediate past, present, and future. “Yeah?” she prodded.

 

“Well… I don’t… think I’ve ever…” Wander trailed, words fragmenting away. “Because, well, it’s not often that anyone ever really… and I’m not really _try’na_ find…” He had begun to droop slightly, voice falling to a murmur. “But what if that means my special someone is… well, not like they would even be able to…”

 

Sylvia was patient, waiting for him to finish collecting his thoughts.

 

“I… hey, Sylvia, d’you think that I missed out already?” he finally asked. “On my one special someone? I’ve travelled around so much and tried so hard to help everyone, because that’s what I wanna do… but what if my special someone is out there all lonely and sad because I missed them? What if I, the only one who can help them, by bein’ _their_ special someone, missed out because I was so busy helpin’ out everyone else?”

 

“Aww, buddy…” she replied, turning her head and nuzzling him lightly. “You’re really special to _me_ , no, scratch that, to _everyone._ Every single person in the galaxy that you’ve met thinks you’re special. Isn’t that worth anything?”

 

“…I guess,” Wander murmured. He slumped for another moment, beginning to lose himself in his thoughts, but then he suddenly steeled himself, sitting up straight again. “No, you’re right! If there’s a big special soulmate or summat out there that I gotta find, then I’ll find ‘em when I’m good and ready! In the meantime, there’s a whole galaxy to help!”

 

“That’s the spirit, pal! Now, first on the list is helping my stomach. If I don’t get some food in me stat, then I might just keel over.”

 

“Alright. Food first! Then everything else!”

 

“Alrighty! First, though, just one more question.”

 

“Sure thing!”

 

“Wander, just how long have you been travelling?” Sylvia asked.

 

“Uh…” Wander thought it over. “Well, kinda hard to keep track of time when you’re running around helping so many folks, ain’t it?”

 

“Yeah, I know, but, just as a rough estimate,” Sylvia asked.

 

“Uh… you first,” he said suddenly, with a smile.

 

“Weren’t you ever taught not to ask a woman her age?” Sylvia teased. Wander shrugged. “Well, zbornaks usually live to somewhere in their upper fifties, but translating that over to standard measurement, it’s more like two hundred and fifty to three hundred. And right now I’m… about… wow, fourty-five. I’m getting _old._ So I guess I’ve been travelling for about… fifteen years, the beginning with Ryder, the rest, well, you.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Haha. Ya sure are! That’s. Yeah. Old,” Wander said, nodding, a slight stutter, looking a little surprised.

 

“Oh, what’s your mileage, maybe twenty or so?” Sylvia teased, rolling her eyes.

 

Wander put his banjo on his back, still thinking. “Well… yeah, I’d say maybe… twenty…”

 

“Figured.”

 

“...only I can’t remember ever _not_ wandering.”

 

“Say WHAT!?”

 

His grip tightened on the saddle. “I’ve been travellin’ a long time,” he justified.

 

Sylvia stopped dead in her tracks, jerking so Wander was forced to catch himself before he hit the bottom of the bubble, standing next to her. She looked him in the face for a few seconds, trying to see if he was trying to play a joke on her. He smiled sheepishly. She stared. “I… you… wow,” she said finally.

 

Wander stared down at his feet, scuffing his shoes. “I don’t like talkin’ about it, folks all get the wrong idea about it an’ start treatin’ me funny.” He looked up at Sylvia, eyes pleading. “It’s not that big a deal, honest, I _like_ travelling the galaxy! It’s just been… a real long time.”

 

“I… I get it, buddy. Sorry if I scared ya, you just… I’m a little bit surprised is all.” Sylvia exhaled slowly, blinking a few times. “Wow.”

 

“Yeah,” Wander said as Sylvia motioned him up onto her back again. “On to find somewhere to eat?”

 

“Sure thing. Man, so you’re definitely a veteran tourist then, huh?” she chuckled. “Hey, Wander, you sure you don’t need a cane? If you’re not careful, you might break a hip.” She teased.

 

“Syllllll…” Wander whined, tugging at the sides of his hat.

 

“Sorry, old man. Need help crossing the street any time soon? I know some junior scouts who could help you out.”

 

“Syl, c’mon…” Wander hid under his hat, embarrassment creeping into his tone.

 

She laughed quietly. “Go back to your banjo, you senile old man,” she teased, turning forward again.

 

He pushed his hat back into place, eyes falling back down to the strings. He struck up a tune. From within that one miniscule bubble in the vast, incomprehensible universe, he started to play, and the notes rushed to fill the emptiness of space, even for just a little while. For just a moment, somewhere in the galaxy, someone paused and looked up into the sky, asked their friend, did you hear that? No, their friend replied, why? Nevermind, they said, and surely they imagined the music. As they continued their day, they hummed a song they didn’t remember learning. In that corner of the galaxy, if only for just a little while, it was peaceful.

 

“Wait, Syl, Emperor Awesome _flirted_ with you!?”

 

“Nuh-uh, no, don’t start.”

 

"Aww..."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [If you were curious, Wander was playing Canon in D, really, really slowly. Thanks SO MUCH for all the support this has gotten so far, y'all are killing me with the kindness! New chapter by the weekend, by my estimates!]


	4. The Splinters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It probably took Sylvia a little while to round up all of those Wanders. What do you think they were up to in the mean time...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A certain user named Reliquary asked for this one! I got to thinking about all the Wanders and how they more than likely probably interacted with each other, and I couldn't help but think about how that would go down! So here, we have Contrary and Zen having a chat, Hero and Villain having a disagreement, the Sad Wanders from the pain pit, and the most important one of all!]

 

“Wanders here, Wanders there, Wanders wand’ring everywhere!” hummed one of the hundreds of copies, skipping along cheerfully, grin borderline malicious, his delighted laugh high and piercing.

 

“’Water, water, everywhere/And not a drop to drink’,” was the reply hummed from above him. The Wander looked up, brows furrowing with distaste at the splinter that sat above the cave entrance, looking like he was straight out of a self-help book’s cover illustration, with the folded legs and index fingers-to-thumbs and everything.

 

“Oh. Zen Wander,” he said bitterly.

 

“And you’re Contrary Wander,” Zen returned, not even opening his eyes to address him. “You’re one of the stronger pieces, aren’t you? Funny seeing you here so close to the cave.”

 

“You say as if you aren’t too,” Contrary returned. “You’re the piece that likes to think we’re above it all, right? The one that thinks we’re sooooo clever, so _wise_ and _well-travelled_?”

 

“You chose the wrong facet to pick on, Con. You won’t get a rise out of me,” Zen said calmly. “Don’t feed the troll. I know that’s the whole point of you, to go into and to cause trouble for the sake of it.”

 

Contrary rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d know that, considering we’re the _exact same guy._ You aren’t better than me, you’re part of the same conclusion as I am! We both know that we’re just parts of a whole, but if even one of us big parts was missing, it would hardly change a thing, isn’t that right? He doesn’t need any of us, really! He needs Playful and Happy and Hero and Logic, but the rest of us are pointless!”

 

“Hmm. ‘He prayeth best, who loveth best/ _All_ things both great and small.’ Wander needs all of us, and so, he needs none of us. He cannot have the option to truly pick and choose, and if he hates one of us, he’ll just have to hate us all. No matter what _you_ like to think, a person is not simply one side or the other; he can be both sides of the coin.”

                                                              

“Go ahead, keep spouting motivational quotes, you big phony,” Contrary muttered, beginning to storm away.

 

“Never hurts to help, it’s always sunny somewhere, ‘Day after day, day after day/We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship/Upon a painted ocean.’” Contrary stopped walking. “Does it feel less complicated than it used to? Without opposing forces, each of us is free of each other. We exist in our purest form. What is it like, having your entire purpose be dedicated to causing trouble simply out of boredom? It seems as though I can stand to sit and think now, without getting scared of the far past and future… was it you who hated for me to sit still for too long, or is there a ‘Desperate for Constant Motion’ Wander running around here too?”

 

“I don’t know,” Contrary said, voice tight.

 

“Yes you do. As do I. How did you put it before…? Ah, right, because we’re the exact same guy?” Zen smiled calmly. Contrary frowned and took off running again before Zen could say another word.

 

“Hmm. I really do repeat things back plenty. I suppose that I must be where all the quotes come from. Perhaps I’m really just ‘Quotes Endlessly’ Wander. Or ‘Knowledge From Every Book I’ve Ever Read’ Wander. Or would that just be ‘Smart’ Wander again?” He cracked open his eyes briefly, considering it. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” He inhaled, exhaled, gently, slowly, taking his time, because he knew he had plenty to spare. “Well, I should probably rejoin Wander now before Sylvia throws me in herself. The making of the choice is often of greater consequence than the action. Freedom was fun.” He hopped down from his perch and with steady strides walked into the cave. “Freedom at the cost of one, entrapment to the cost of none. Hah, I’m really good at this!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Fiend!”

 

“Weakling!”

 

“Monster!”

 

“Goody-two-shoes!”

 

Distracted Wander took several moments to observe the two, yelling at each other viciously, faces close together and covered by matching scowls.

 

“We both know I’m stronger than you! Wander always wants to do the right thing!” Shouted Hero Wander, voice full of bravado. “You’re a fraud! A mask! A fake!”

 

“But it was a little too easy for Wander to start being me, don’t you think, hero?” Villain Wander shot back, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, his twang pronounced. “The second he was given the means and the excuse, there I was! If I’m not real, then why am I here with the rest of y’all?”

 

“Wander has been and always will be a hero! He’s a legend! He’s saved nearly every planet in the galaxy!” Hero made a sweeping gesture towards the sky.

 

“And how many has he allowed Hater to destroy?!” Villain shot back with a cackle. “If he was really a hero, wouldn’t he have killed him already and saved countless civilizations from his wrath?”

 

“No! Wander would never kill _anybody_! That isn’t what a hero does!” Hero argued, desperation clear on his face. “Wander would never hurt anyone!”

 

“We already did, just by sitting by, letting Hater run free!” Villain cackled, “How many people have died? How many people have lost their homes? Their whole worlds? How does he know that isn’t me doing that?”

 

“Hater doesn’t destroy, he just conquers! And the life of one isn’t worth the comfort of another!” Hero stated firmly, voice rising in anger.

 

“The comfort of _hundreds?_ Whole civilizations? Their freedom isn’t worth the life of one terrible, horrible villain? Haha! This is why villany is going to win out in the end! Just you wait, Hero!” Villain Wander darted off, cackling, knocking hats off of heads as he went.

 

Hero began chase, putting the hats back in their rightful positions.

 

* * *

 

 

Eyes sweeping the crowd of Wanders, astonished, terrified. “Oh no, oh no oh no oh NO this is bad, this is REAL bad!” He paused. “The fact that I know this is real bad must make me… Aware Wander? No, that’s not right… Logical Wander. Okay. That means I should help fix this, Sylvia can’t do this alone…” He cast his eyes around, taking note of the fragments, wincing slightly as he realized what some of them were. He finally darted to a version of himself near the cave, the splinter picking away at his scalp next to a growing pile of fur. He took a moment to be distinctly uncomfortable before he started talking. “So are you the obsessive or the compulsive? Compulsive, right?”

 

“Both,” the Wander said, not looking up at him. “You’re Logic Wander.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I know you know.”

 

“I knew you’d know.”

 

“I know you knew I’d know.”

 

“Stop that,” Logic said firmly, and the Wander’s hands stilled for only a moment before resuming. “We gotta fix this mess.”

 

Obsessive visibly winced at the word ‘mess’, switching from his scalp to his leg. “I knew it.”

 

“You’re not helping!” Logic said impatiently. “How many… alternate versions of us are there?”

 

“Sylvia has captured and sent back 29, leaving 391 total Wanders including us,” Obsessive said crisply, tense like a spring.

 

“And do we need to keep all of our parts to go back to how we were? We can’t leave any behind?”

 

The splinter shrugged (more of a twitch really). “Smart Wander said that Wander’ll fade away if we leave any out. Why?”

 

“Because you’re terrible and he doesn’t need you,” Logic Wander said flatly, clenching and unclenching his fists. “You just HAVE to make things difficult for me constantly. He could do without you.”

 

“He’ll be different without me,” Obsessive Wander said, a hint of desperation in his tone.

 

“Good,” Logic turned and started walking. Obsessive had nothing to say to that.

 

He walked along, looking at the splinters of himself (splinters _like_ himself? Ugh). Angry, confused, childish, distracted, villainous, drowsy… he felt himself getting more and more downcast. These are all him. These are all… parts of him. All of them were so useless to what he wanted to do, to his goals and his plans to get to those goals. He found a small ditch between two sheer hills, where two more Wanders were sitting back-to-back, eyes on the ground, drooping severely. He walked to them, as at least _they_ seemed to be smart enough to get that this was a bad situation. “What are you two?”

 

The first of the two shrugged, curling his knees in to his chest. The other looked up, eyes watery. “Hey, do you know where Sylvia is?” with his voice oddly wavery.

 

Logic shook his head, confused, and the Wander sighed softly, returning to looking at the ground. He thought for a moment. “Let me guess. Sadness Wander and Lonely Wander?”

 

They both shrugged, but from the shift in their expressions it looked like he was right. He scowled, irritated. “Why do I have to have you…?” he asked, glancing between the two of them. “Why are you two parts of me? You don’t even _do_ anything except make my work more difficult!”

 

A Wander darted up suddenly, eyes wide, looking hesitant, oddly manic. “Heya!” he said, smile twitchy. He looked anxious as the two sitting down didn’t so much as look at him, Logic just staring with vague distaste. “Um. I said, heya!” The two still didn’t look up. Logic narrowed his eyes. “Howdy! Hello! Hi! Sup…? Um. Can you hear me?”

 

“Attention Seeker Wander,” Logic finally said. “You’re not a good one either. I don’t like you.”

 

The Wander flinched, eyes darting between the three of them. “Oh. Um. Oh.” He inhaled, exhaled. “…Oh.”

 

“You’re freaking out due to the fact that there’s almost 400 copies of you running around, and you aren’t any different, and there’s nobody who can give you constant validation as long as he’s all split up. That’s why you’re so nervous and twitchy.” Logic said calmly, evenly.

 

“…That, um, doesn’t make me feel any better! Haha!” the facet replied, shifting from foot to foot.

 

“I know. That’s why I don’t like you.”

 

The Wander blinked, smile wavering, expression falling, and he took a few steps past Logic, sinking into the pile without further ado. “Oh, come on, that doesn’t help us out at all!” Logic said, exasperated, annoyed. “Don’t just join the Pointlessness Pile! Why are you like this!? How does that help us at all?”

 

“Why even bother?” Sad Wander finally spoke up. “It’s hopeless. Do you know how hard it would be to catch any of us? He’s going to fade away and we’re all going to die, and that’s how everything’s going to end. All those years and finally he accidentally kills himself. Seems accurate to what we deserve though, huh? Hah.”

 

“At least we don’t die totally alone. Sylvia’s trying her best out there,” Lonely Wander said softly, moving to lay down on the ground.

 

“It’s pointless,” Logic finally said, as if he only then realized the fact, as if he only then realized that there was nothing he could really do. He slowly moved to sit on the grass, eyes falling to the ground. “It’s totally and completely pointless. I’m going to die.”

 

“ _We’re_ going to die,” Attention Seeker Wander corrected gently.

 

The four Wanders sat and thought about why they existed for a little while. Even Logic had to finally admit that he had no idea at all. He couldn’t plan his way out of this. Nothing to think about. He felt totally and completely empty.

 

* * *

 

 

The corner was safe. Not warm, not particularly bright. Safe. He stared as hard as he could at the wall, curling tighter, closer, hat hardly covering him, so, so small. He felt so small.

 

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think, he could hardly breathe and blink. He had no idea how he’d gotten this far away from where he started. He was terrified. He felt hopeless. He would shrivel up and die here. It was cold and dark and he hadn’t the courage to turn and look behind him. He heard voices. He would’ve curled up tighter if he could. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

 

He remembered people getting hurt. He remembered being too small to stop them. Too weak. Too slow. Too dumb. He couldn’t do anything. He can’t ever do anything. He had to watch it happen. He can’t save everyone. He can’t save anyone.

 

He was _helpless._

 

Someone found him. Gentle words, coddling arms, suddenly, it was strangely warm.

 

He was whole again. He felt where one started and another one ended, three or four or six all working in tandem at a time, moods ebbing and flowing like some strange emotional tide, ideas coming and going and suddenly he felt a tear tracing down his cheek. And he felt the reins passing from hand to hand to each and every part of him, because he was whole again. Wow, he was whole again. It felt amazing.

 

(I don’t want anyone else to go through what I went through.)

 

_(Home.)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This was a lot of ideas that were all too short to post alone so I kinda just... mushed them together?
> 
> Oh, something worth looking at that I pulled a lot of Zen's quotes from, look up The Rime of the Ancient Mariner! "I pass, like night, from land to land/I have strange power of speech" as well as tons of other parallels in there that I thought were cool in regards to this show. Hope y'all enjoyed it! (i spent WAAAY too long revising it haha) 
> 
> Find me yelling about this show some more @thetriggeredhappy on tumblr and have a SWELL day out there!]


	5. The Night Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wander's been travelling for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fun fact, The Night Sky was actually the name of a coffeeshop that a bunch of people liked in my town. It closed before I ever even stepped inside the place. I'm pretty sure it was made up.]

 

Wander sometimes did this _thing._

 

He did a lot of things, really. Sung way more often than he needed to. Ran directly into danger without seeming to care if he got hurt in the process. Had such genuine enthusiasm when he greeted new people, as if he hadn’t met basically everyone in the galaxy, as if every single person was special.

 

But most of those things were just such Wander things to do that she was used to it by that point. She had taken up the role of bodyguard and was used to keeping him out of trouble, keeping him safe from dangers—and from himself, in some cases.

 

But this was one of those things that she didn’t really understand.

 

She woke up, and on this empty, windy pasture planet, it was still nighttime. She shifted slightly to get more comfortable, and came to the sudden realization that Wander wasn’t laying on her back. She sat up, looking around, alarm jolting through her chest, and noted that Wander was sitting just a bit away, head tilted up towards the sky.

 

Her eyes moved upwards, and… there was nothing there? Just stars and some colorful specks that were probably other planets. It was just the sky, nothing new or unusual, really. But Wander was sitting there and staring up at it, unmoving. The brim of his hat hid his face from her view. She stood up and padded over, sitting next to him. Wander didn’t react, and in the near darkness she could make out his eyes still moving slowly, steadily, across the sky. The wind rustled the grass softly.

 

“So, um, whatcha lookin’ at?” Sylvia said, voice soft, hardly above a whisper.

 

“The stars,” he replied, voice gentle. She wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. Not really sad, or upset, but there was this weird forlorn melancholy on his face. He looked… not tired in the literal sense, just… like he was missing something.

 

Sylvia took a few moments to wonder when she learned to read him so well. She didn’t mind, she was just a little surprised.

 

Her eyes moved up to the sky. She wasn’t sure how many stars there were. Thousands. Millions. Probably at least one planet around each of them. Probably a lot of folks living out there in the universe. A lot of places to see.

 

She looked back down at her little buddy and wondered how many of these places he’d seen before. How many of them he’d visited. How many folks he’d met.

 

“Where’s yours?” he asked softly.

 

She blinked, eyes moving from the sky to him, then back up again. “My… my home planet?” she asked. He nodded, a soft rustle. Her eyes searched for a few long moments, moving from one to another, carefully calculating distance. “It’s um… I think it’s that one.” She pointed up, and she realized how small that star was, and how many there were to choose from. His eyes were on her hand then, and he was slowly, carefully, pointing up as well, eyes finding that chip of light after a pause of deliberation. A few moments passed in silence before he let his hand fall to his side again. She did the same, staring up at the sky. She wondered for a few long moments how her brothers were doing. What Ma was up to, if Gram was still doing okay.

 

“What’s it like?” he asked quietly. Sylvia looked at him. He still hadn’t looked at her properly.

 

“What… do you mean?” Sylvia asked slowly. “You’ve seen it.”

 

“I mean… a house. Siblings. Ma and Gram and eating dinner together and… that.”

 

Sylvia took a few seconds to think about it, and for the first time in a long time, when she thought of her house, and siblings, and Ma and Gram and eating dinner together, she didn’t think about how the boys were always fighting and how Ma always had one more job for her to do and how Gram never seemed to say anything except when she was complaining. She remembered being a kid, coming home and telling Ma with so much pride that she’d won a fight with some kid who thought she wasn’t so tough, and for once she seemed to be worried about her. Fretting, saying, don’t pick fights for fun, you should know better, Syl. Saying that if she got hurt, she wouldn’t be happy. What would her brothers think if she came back home black and blue?

 

She remembered the time Phil _had_ come home black and blue, and how she and Gil had practically brought the world down on top of the guy who did it, and how Bill had been the one who had to walk his dumb younger siblings home, limping and bruised, knuckles scraped up, but grinning because _nobody_ picked on their little brother and got away with it. The “I told you so” look in Ma’s eyes. The fact that for the next few days, Ma went just a little bit easier on all three of them.

 

Gram giving them the same gift every year on their birthday, a scarf she knitted herself with their initial on it. The boys always “too cool” to wear knitted scarves, but when it got cold, they could always be seen wrapped up in them anyways. Gram with this little smile, handkerchief in hand, dabbing at her eyes, saying they’d grow up to be bright young men one day, just like their father.

 

The wind was chilly on the pasture planet.

 

“It was a job,” Sylvia said softly. “You saw it, we were always fighting, and sometimes it was pretty stressful. But I love ‘em. I miss ‘em sometimes… don’t tell the dumb froods I said that, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. My brothers might always be throwing fists, but let me tell you, we sure came down hard on anyone else who tried to pull anything. Every time someone picked on one of us, the other three were throwing back faster than you could blink. Especially Phil, he was the youngest, poor guy was pretty smart, so he stayed out of scuffles most’a the time, but he got his fair share of licks. We didn’t let it slide, let me tell you. If one of us took a punch, the other three would take twice as many if it meant nobody tried it again. Ma didn’t tell us at the time, but, I think she was always proud of us. Tough couple’a guys. My brothers’ll get out into the world someday, make good things happen with that thick skin of theirs. I’m proud of them too. I just knew I couldn’t stay there. I love my family, but, I always felt like there was somewhere else that I needed to go. Somewhere I needed to be.” She shifted slightly. “I always wished I’d said goodbye. At least I got to at all. Never thought I’d see ‘em again, honestly. The galaxy, it’s… pretty dangerous.”

 

Wander was silent, still. Staring up at the sky.

 

“Hey, Wander, where did you come from?” she finally asked.

 

He didn’t look at her. His eyes fell back down to the ground, a soft rustle as his hat shifted on his head.

 

Sylvia watched him, and she felt like it was a nail directly in her chest. She looked back up into the sky. “Sorry. Different question, where were you running around before we met?”

 

He looked up again, and slowly lifted his arm, pointed out into the sky. “Way out there,” he practically whispered. “They called me Tumbleweed.”

 

Sylvia looked down at him. “Before that?”

 

He hesitated, eyes tracing across the sky, before his arm shifted, pointing to a different section of the sky. “Over there. Called me the Walker.” Another pause, a light shift. “Starflower.” Another, just a bit downwards and to the left. “The South Wind.” Another, this one with a bit longer of a pause between. “Albatross.” Long moment, shifting so he could point almost directly upward now. “Hitchhiker, but only for a little while.” Another movement, Sylvia blinking slightly now, amazed. “The Puck, and way back behind that, called me the Lost Soul.” He stopped, putting his hand down by his side. “Before that, it gets out of order a little. It was something like… the messenger child of the empty space.”

 

“Little wordy, don’t you think?” Sylvia muttered.

 

“It’s the best translation.” Wander murmured quietly. “There’s some places where I just didn’t have a name, between villains.”

 

Sylvia’s eyes traced the stars, looking at each patch. “About how long did you spend under each name?”

 

Wander thought it over for a few moments, then eventually he just shrugged.

 

A few long moments passed in silence again. The sky was getting lighter, just ahead of them. Sylvia watched the colors change, new ones layering on old ones, some stars remaining longer than others. Her planet’s star stayed pretty darn long before it disappeared. She wondered if it was day or night in the house. Were they sitting down for dinner now? Did they think about her very often? She inhaled and exhaled, and for the first time since they stopped here on this uninhabited planet, she realized just how sweet the air was. The sound of the grass in the wind was beautiful. Almost like the ocean. Peaceful. Quiet.

 

“It must be nice to have a home.”

 

Wander sometimes did this _thing_. Stared up at the sky that he’d spent literal centuries walking, with the same awe, with the same reverence as one who had hardly ever seen the stars before. He stared up and looked for all the world like he was missing something. And despite her best efforts, despite all her time learning to read him, Sylvia never knew what he missed so terribly, with such quiet heartache. Wander never asked for much, not out loud, at least, not directly. Just food, water, necessities. Permission to go and do things he wanted to do, although sometimes he ignored her saying “no”. He never asked for much, instead giving literally everything he had to make people happy.

 

So how could he ask for something he never had to begin with?

 

It was windy on the pasture planet. The two travelers stared up at the night sky.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I've got outlines for all the requests done, don't worry. But this idea was killing me. I've been headcanon-ing names for Wander since Tumbleweed began to be a thing and I am 0% sorry.]


	6. The Cell Block Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All these former villains that you see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Man, this week has... certainly been several days long so far. Wowie. Enjoy my sudden burst of inspiration, I wrote this in one sitting and refuse to edit. Go team.]

 

The cells were depressing.

 

Emperor Awesome huffed quietly, fiddling absentmindedly with his gloves. What other brilliant leaps of judgement would he make today? Water’s wet? Fist fighters are short? Lord Dominator’s kuckoo crazy out of her mind, incredibly cunning and manipulative, outrageously brilliant, and they’re all doomed? Tune in at 11 on Nobody’s Surprised News.

 

“Hey. New guy.” Awesome looked up, turning his head. It came from a little bit down the row. He leaned his head against the bars, trying to get a good look at him. Red bull-looking guy. Flaming. Not too intimidating, but, in the circumstances, who is?

 

“Yeah?” he replied, dryily.

 

“That was real gutsy what you tried to do,” he said. His shoulder was pressed to the bars, angled so his horn fit through the slot. “Try’na win ‘er over like that. Good game.”

 

Awesome exhaled, shaking his head. “I genuinely thought she was cool, man. Crazy charismatic, wicked smart, tons of ambition and a system that worked— _and_ she made it all out like she had a thing for me, too!” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I played right into her hands.”

 

“We all did," Bullman shrugged. “One way or another.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Awesome searched the cells with his eyes. “Hey, old guy!”

 

An older looking villain turned to look at him. “Eh?” he piped up.

 

“How’d she get you?” Awesome asked.

 

His hands shook slightly, and Awesome couldn't tell the reason. “Good old fashioned faked militarism,” he said. “I thought we were going to have a proper battle of forces, like in the good old days. Thought she had a sense of flair like myself, could give me a real fight. She just ran right past the battle and held a hand to my throat and I had no choice but to surrender on the spot.”

 

“She’s smart.” Awesome heard the voice from the cell the opposite direction from him. An odd kind of voice, grabbed your attention, kinda cracky, wavery. “She’s probably one of the smartest there is.”

 

He craned his neck to see the villain to the other side. Clown-banana. He'd seen weirder. “What’s your deal, then?”

 

“I’m Dr. Screwball Jones,” he announced, proud, but not enthusiastic. “The _other_ smartest in the galaxy. Or, one of them.”

 

“Never heard of you,” Awesome deadpanned.

 

“I came in from a nearby galaxy, I was hoping to find an old friend, settle some business,” he said mysteriously, grinning like a madman. “Didn’t go over well, and right when I thought I was in the clear again, she showed up and started destroying things.”

 

“She just caught you? No theatrics? Lame.”

 

“Technically, _nobody’s_ supposed to be able to catch me,” Screwball said, tone full of a dissatisfied distaste. “That’s kind of my _thing.”_

 

“Quit speaking riddles and get to the point!” the old guy shouted from down the row.

 

Screwball sighed. “Way to take the fun out of it,” he murmured. “Fine. My whole deal is that I’ve figured out a way to exploit a few universal rules and regulations for my own benefit that make me nigh-impossible to beat. And apparently she figured out how to get around it.” He caught the blank stare from Awesome and sighed dramatically. “It’s all _very_ impressive and _very_ scientifically astounding and incredibly intricate, but it’s fine. No need to be impressed or anything.”

 

“What’s the exploit?” Bullman demanded.

 

“The theory is called ‘The Prankster’s Gambit Effect’ or alternatively ‘Joker Immunity’. It’s a continuity thing, very meta, pretty hush-hush. I’d tell you more, but I’m really not sure the fourth wall can take much more leaning like this, and if I get any further into talking about plot points like this people will see it coming. Better to leave it as it is.”

 

Awesome hesitantly turned back away from the banana-man, consciously deciding that this guy was clearly absolutely crazy-bonkers and that we should decisively ignore him now as a group. He thought this thing quite clearly and with deliberation and all by himself with no outside forces, and thought to himself that it was very important to think all of these things so hard that it would theoretically be worth mentioning.

 

(Shut up, Screwball.)

 

“Maybe all hope is not yet lost,” the wrinkly bag of bones grumbled, stroking his beard with one wrinkly, weirdly bony hand. “There’s still just the slightest chance of victory.”

 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, old man?” Awesome drawled, turning his head to look at him. “Maybe if we all close our eyes and clap _really_ hard.”

 

“Say, isn’t that little orange fella still out there running around? Maybe _he’ll_ save us,” Bullman spoke up, hopefully.

 

“Wait, you know Wander too?” Awesome said with a grin. “Hah. Small galaxy.”

 

“Or maybe, fast guy,” Screwball muttered. “We all know him. That’s _his_ thing.”

 

“Hey, if he’s still running around, maybe we really do have a shot. That guy is uh…” Awesome flashed back to his few encounters with the tangerine lollipop man. Dance-off. Something about feather boas. Fancy party. Picinic basket in the middle of the battle. “…sure something.”

 

“Maybe he’ll save us. He’d a nice young man. I’m sure we could settle our differences and all escape here together! He wouldn’t hesitate to help us!”

 

“Speak for yourself. He’s had enough of me, he’d probably leave me here,” Screwball muttered. Again with the muttering. He was just sulking at that point.

 

“And why is that?” Bullman asked, furrowed eyebrows.

 

“Because I know ‘im waaaay too well,” Screwball said offhandedly. “You know why he’s so good at everything, right? I’m not the only one with secrets to the universe, let me tell you! But he’s had way longer to figure things out, so… I don’t blame him for knowing a thing or two thousand.”

 

“What’re you talking about?” Bullman asked, wrapping his hands around the bars.

 

“Weirdo’s crazy lucky!”

 

“Wander got lucky? Niiiiice bro, knew he had it in him! Who was it?”

 

“What? Oh my grop. No. Stop it.” Screwball rubbed at his forehead. “I mean he literally can’t lose, if he tries hard enough. Probabilities just don’t make sense around him. I did a lot of math, he was helpful enough to stick around long enough for me to figure it out. It’s either the grop-knows how long buildup of good karma, or some weird power of some kind, or magic, or… something. But one way or another, you can count on it. He’ll get anyone he wants out of here, out of here.” Screwball retreated backwards into his cage. “And I have a feeling he might just leave me here, since I’m one of the only ones who can beat ‘im. Joker’s Immunity. Continuity. Look it up, it’s all veeeery fascinating. There’s a reason that whole episode of our lives was a convoluted pop culture reference.”

 

“He’ll get us out of here. I know it,” Awesome said, leaning back against the bars, trying to project certainty. "He's gotta. The kid is a hero." Murmurs of affirmation echoed in from around him, everyone coming to an agreement on the subject. "We just gotta wait here, he'll save us in no time."

 

But the sound of bubbling magma so close to the bars still gave him a distinct sense of terror. He went back to fiddling with his gloves, thinking hard. Wondering how often she fed her prisoners, if at all. If she was planning on keeping all of them, or if she might... might just...

 

The cells were depressing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I suggest if anyone has two hours to burn and a craving for intensely incredible literature, look up Detective Pony on this site. It's a modern masterpiece. Just get to chapter four and I'll be satisfied.  
> I need sleep desperately.  
> Go follow my tumblr for occasional updates on chapters and whatnot, same name as on here, same icon. Already a few posts about future chapters up. I just wanted to dump this thing here before we got back into Properly Written territory. Have a gr8 week folks]


	7. The Ol' Switcheroo, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Watchdogs should seriously invest in some target practice. Those boys are a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A delightful ray of sunshine called dapperghost asked for Wander and CPeeps interaction, and Wander and CPeeps interaction they will get! Buckle up and prepare for me over complicating the request past recognition! (Why do i do this to myself lmao *jazz hands*)
> 
> Note: Yes. This is going to be multiple parts. For the convenience of everyone involved and also my sanity. Enjoy.]

 

It was a really beautiful day on the planet. There was the distant sound of birds singing from the picturesque and beautiful forest, flowers were fully in bloom in the meadows, positively and literally buzzing with bees and butterflies alike and lending a peaceful drone to fill the air, the feeling of life. Listening closely, Sylvia could just faintly hear the sound of enraged and agonized screaming from a skeleton man with the color palette of a murder mystery, chasing around her laughing best friend and the primary source of all her troubles for grop knows how long.

 

She watched with interest as the subordinate to the aforementioned skeleton man continued staring in disbelief out towards where the sound was coming from. He’d been staring for a pretty long time now. It was a wonder that he didn’t feel the need to blink yet. Maybe he was going into shock? Sylvia took a sip of her lemonade and set the glass down on the blanket Wander had procured from his hat. “Hey, Peeps, can you hear me? Whatever you do, don’t go into the light,” she deadpanned, expression stony. The commander shook his head as if to clear it before turning and glaring at her.

 

“Are you seriously not even bothered by this?” he demanded, hands on his hips. “Aren’t you even just a little bit concerned?”

 

“Nah, Wander can handle himself just fine. He can take more than a game of… hey, what game are they playing?” she shaded her eyes and squinted out into the field. All she could see was Wander and Hater running in circles, Wander ducking under Hater when he got too close, Hater looking about ready to throttle him from his body language and the fact that he crackled with lightning. “Is it tag again?”

 

“Keepaway,” Peepers said dryily. Sylvia raised an eyebrow at him before looking out at the two again. “Wander took his keys.”

 

“What, to his room?”

 

“To the ship.”

 

Sylvia shot a look of disbelief at the skullship that was parked in the sky a few miles out, grinning. “Haha, _wow_ you guys are terrible! This is a whole new level of suck!”

 

“One more word, zbornak,” Peepers warned, fists clenched. “It’s not the only set. He has another one in his room, I have a pair, and we can make more. He just really doesn’t want your wandering weirdo to be able to get onto our ship, and him having our keys is stuff out of his nightmares.”

 

“I’m pretty sure he already _has_ a set of keys.”

 

“He what?”

 

Suddenly their back-and-forth was interrupted as the drone of the bees seemed to, all at once, just… stop. The odd silence was still broken by the yelling from the two from further away, but Sylvia realized almost instantly that there was something wrong. Both her and Peepers knew it without saying a word.

 

There was a long moment of eerie silence before the crash. Even Wander and Hater stopped dead, looking around, weary of the sudden change.

 

The ground across the meadow began to crack apart all at once, almost like glass, as a big, terrifying _something_ erupted from the ground. Gnashing teeth and a roar that echoed and it leapt high, high, higher (how long was this thing!?), and finally the tail end left the ground, and it arced, it landed, twisting, hissing, spitting in rage. Serpentine, reptilian, making a sound like a billion cicadas in harmony and sending every hair on her head to stand on end. Now thrashing, burying itself and resurfacing and cracking the planet apart at the seams in the large, empty space _directly_ between her and Wander.

 

Grop.

 

She felt movement to one side of her as Peepers started running, not towards the monster, but away towards his ship. Retreating. Like a coward. Wow. She, on the other hand, started running the opposite direction, giving a wide berth to the monster, eyes scanning for Wander amongst the rubble. She caught sight of him from afar—waving frantically, gripping Hater by the arm and practically dragging him at a dead sprint towards where she was (the skeleton man looked a little bit stunned by this turn of events, which honestly, was probably fair). He was shouting something, but Sylvia couldn’t hear him over the roars, the ground cracking apart at the seams.

 

“HOLD ON WANDER! I’M COMIN’ FOR YA, BUDDY!” she shouted as loudly as she could over the pandemonium, ducking left and right to avoid the slabs of earth splintering in every direction, ahead of her, beside her, around her.

 

Only a hundred yards, Hater looked torn between being really angry and being terrified out of his mind. Sylvia found a little comfort in that, at least. She jumped, slid, dodged. Wander ducked, weaved, pulled Hater out of the way of a crevice cracking through the ground, Hater zapped a boulder out of the air, barely avoiding being crushed. He was lucky Wander was always so lucky. She was lucky she was so fast.

 

She turned sharply, fell into a slide, knees bent, kicking up dust as she went. Wander was vaulting over a slab, landing hard on her back, and Sylvia took off running again, the only indication that Hater was still being pulled behind being the fact that there was more resistance than usual.

 

“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT THING?!” Sylvia yelled over the utter pandemonium around them.

 

“NOT SURE, BUT WE SHOULD PROBABLY GET OFF’A THE PLANET REAL FAST!” Wander replied, tugging sharply on the reins, and Sylvia ducked left, narrowly avoiding being crushed. “I HAVE A FUNNY FEELING THAT THIS PLANET AIN’T GONNA LAST VERY LONG WITH THIS THING!” Hater yelled something from behind them, and Sylvia heard Wander quickly shout some apologies, then Hater was on her back too. She gritted her teeth at the sudden change in weight distribution.

 

“HEY, HATER!” she yelled, turning her head briefly to glare back at him. “EARN YOUR KEEP, GUY, TRY AND GET THAT THING OFF MY HIDE!”

 

“WHY SHOULD I!?” Hater said, voice cutting through the noise.

 

Wander yelped, tugging the reins sharply again, and a boulder about ten times their combined sizes impaled in the ground itself close enough to them that Sylvia coughed on the dust.

 

“BECAUSE UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!” she replied, voice gritty.

 

“I REFUSE TO HELP MY ENEMIES, I’D RATHER—“

 

“YOU CAN HATE ME LATER, HATER! THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU OR ME OR SYLVIA OR ANY OF THAT, THIS IS ABOUT STAYING ALIVE! IF ONE OF YOU TWO DIES, I HAVE A FEELING THAT NONE OF US WOULD BE HAPPY ABOUT IT!” Wander shouted, cutting off Hater before he could start ranting. “WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST THIS ONCE LET ME HELP YOU? JUST HOLD ON TIGHT AND TRY NOT TO FALL OFF, THAT’S ALL I’M ASKIN’ A YOU! PLEASE!”

 

Hater went silent at that. Sylvia glanced back at him, but he wasn’t looking at them anymore, head turned to look back at the disaster area that the planet was rapidly becoming. She glanced at Wander, and he shrugged, nonplussed.

 

Wander suddenly clamored up closer, pointing frantically. “LOOK! HATER’S SHIP!” Sylvia looked, and there it was, flying high up before them, rapidly coming closer. “D’YOU THINK THAT’S THE CAVALRY?”

 

“NOT SURE, JUST HANG ON TIGHT PAL!” The last few words were drowned out by the sound of crackling lightning, the beast roaring in pain, the cracking of the ground stopping then starting again quickly. Sylvia glanced back again, looking at the massive beast, and saw a small area had turned black. Hater looked smug.

 

“YOU’RE LUCKY I’M SUCH A COOL AND NICE GUY!” Hater shouted over the din, and Sylvia could just faintly hear Wander sigh in relief as she turned to look forward again. Another crackle of lightning. Another roar. Were the tremors weakening? No, they were…they were definitely stronger now. The ground was cracking apart at the seams. She did all she could to just stay above ground, eyes squinted against the dust and dirt that was taking to the air around them. She was determined to do this. She and her pal had survived way worse than this, they could make it out of this alive. They could do this. (She can’t do this they’re gonna die oh grop they’re gonna DIE they’re gonna—)

 

Sylvia watched in horror as a great shadow loomed over them, the roars moving up, up, up, directly over them. Crevices peeking up around them. Crackle, boom, boom, _boom_ but it was already sailing high over them, and she heard it crash down again mere yards behind them, felt the ground utterly shatter.

 

Wander was yelling something. Her ears were ringing too badly to tell exactly what.

 

Then all of a sudden, he was dead silent. That’s when the ground caved in, not just shattering upward in a cloud, but collapsing down, down, down.

 

Her and her single passenger fell into darkness.

 

* * *

 

Peepers watched with horror as the monster surfaced, shrieking, terrifying. His mind raced at a thousand miles per hour. Options: Fight or flight. No fighting this thing. They needed to leave. He had keys. He could get onto the ship and maybe if they were quick they could escape. They needed to run _right now._

 

He was off and running in an instant, feet pit-pattering as fast as they could to carry him back to the ship. A quarter of the way there, the Watchdogs on the ship seemed to have caught wind of the situation, and he was met halfway. He sprinted as fast as he could into the control room. The Watchdogs were panicking. Of course they were. Incompetent little…

 

“WATCHDOGS! DO WE HAVE A VISUAL ON LORD HATER?” he shouted over the panic, effectively getting their attention. Several Watchdogs darted to their stations, frantically pressing buttons. The rest continued to mill around anxiously.

 

“Sir! He’s to the northwest of the-the monster!” one Watchdog stammered. “Moving at approximately 70 kilometers per hour in the same direction!”

 

“What!? 70 ki—that’s impossible! Move over!” Peepers pushed him aside, looking at the monitor. The speck was barely visible on the screen. “I said _visual, men, visual!_ As in, _so I can see what’s happening!_ Gotta do everything myself,” he said angrily, quickly typing in the commands to zoom in. The camera took two precious seconds to focus itself.

 

“SERIOUSLY!? THE ZBORNAK AND THE WANDERING WEIRDO!?” he said, facepalming. “Ughhhhh! Okay, I need stats, what’re we looking at?”

 

“The planet appears to have layers of catacombs rendering it hollow, sir!” shouted one Watchdog a few seats over. “Sir, this is a regular centennial ritual of this planet, the monster is attempting to cave in the uppermost layers and to consume all vegetation and life currently on the surface, sir!”

 

Peepers inhaled, exhaled. “Alright. How long do we have until it collapses, then?”

 

A long pause, sounds of typing. Another Watchdog made a soft sound of disbelief. “329 seconds, sir!”

 

Peepers cursed under his breath. “Any possibility of a dive in to get him?”

 

“No, sir, they’re too far away, and the monster would hit us before we got there!”

 

“ _Can we shoot it?!”_

 

“Negative! The hide is too thick and we haven’t resupplied on ammunition in weeks, we would lose far before time of rescue, sir!”

 

“Sir, what do we do?” a Watchdog shouted from one end of the room. Peepers looked around. All eyes were on him. Good. He would need their attention.

 

“Get us moving, move like we’re cutting them off four kilometers ahead of their current position assuming they’ll remain on the same general path! I want Nathan from the science sector in here five minutes ago with his latest project! NOW, MEN, NOW!” He jumped to his feet and the Watchdogs scurried to their proper places, all of them frantically following their orders.

 

A Watchdog darted up to Peepers within twenty seconds, hands full of odd-looking machinery. “Nathan from the science sector, reporting, sir! What do you need?” he asked, pulling anxiously at a loose thread on the sleeve of his lab coat, shifting the things in his hand, setting them down carefully.

 

“Did you finish the prototype you were working on, the one from the report earlier this month?” Peepers demanded, glancing at the tech that was laying on the ground.

 

The Watchdog blanched. “The—the work I did on wormhole manipulation?” Peepers nodded. “Sir, that work was highly experimental, and has only been tested under extremely tight conditions with expendables and has turned out only 80% of participants within time requirements and in one piece, we can’t possibly—“

 

“Your job isn’t to tell me what we can and can’t possibly do, soldier!” Peepers returned. “That’s not your call! Give me the three minute explanation of how it works, because that’s exactly how long we have!”

 

Nathan’s eye widened. “…How bad is it, sir?” he blurted suddenly.

 

“Bad enough that 80% sounds like a miracle. Do you have the machine with you?”

 

Nathan fiddled with the tread on his sleeve some more. “Yes, sir, I brought it with me. Okay, to _grossly and horrifyingly oversimplify_ the theory and skip over all of the interesting parts, basically the theory is that using wormholes you could traverse between any two points in our universe, two points in time, two points in the multiverse, two points amongst the second/third/fourth/fifth/nth dimensions, et cetera. The Orbell brothers figured out how to use wormholes to travel through points in time, and using their notes—along with… some rather confusing and mysterious notes from a third and possible fourth party on the scene—I managed to crack how to traverse two points of space. Still working on the dimensions thing, but there’s theoretically at least eleven of those and honestly with the current budget I don’t see how we could—“ He suddenly noticed the look Peepers was giving him. “—But the science requires very precise timing and mechanics, so I’ll need incredibly precise data and numbers to be able to catch him at the right time.”

 

Peepers flexed his fingers, staring at the screen, which still showed the trio running for their lives. “Can we get all of them here? Would that make it easier?” Peepers asked.

 

Nathan shook his head. “No way that we could transport that much matter through such a tight space. We’re already trying to shoot a pencil through a straw here.”

 

“Two minutes, sir!” one Watchdog shouted.

 

Peepers pointed to one of the Watchdogs. “You! Do we have their position on a relative coordinate-time graph?!”

 

“Yes, sir!” the Watchdog frantically typed in a few more commands. On the readout under the picture of the three, three numbers popped up, X, Y, and Z.

 

“Accounted for variables?”

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

Nathan stepped forward. “Adjust all X and Y variables up by 0.058, Z down by 0.319.”

 

The Watchdog glanced at Peepers. Peepers glared. “You heard him! Adjust!” As the Watchdog hopped to it, he glanced at Nathan.

 

“Adjusted for monitor feedback delay and the amount of time it takes for the path to be created after firing,” he clarified.

 

Peepers rubbed his forehead. “Ugh. Enough technical mumbo jumbo. Just get ready to fire. Now. We don’t want to put this down to the wire, we fire when you—“

 

Suddenly an especially ferocious roar shook the ship and the monitor went white for a few seconds. Hater had turned around and begun firing at the beast.

 

Wild cursing and yells of shock and anger dominated the room. “Sir, that pulls us down to fifteen, fourteen, thirteen—“

 

Nathan was off and running, the tech in his hands, plugging it into computers as fast as he could, yanking open panels, wires tangling and making a mess. “Sir!” he shouted, tossing something to Peepers. “Clear a space!”

 

Peepers shoved several Watchdogs away from the center of the room, placing it down in the empty area. “Fire when ready!”

 

“Sir, we have three, two—“

 

For a moment it felt like there was a vacuum of space right there at the point of transfer, then for a fraction of a second it was blinding, then for another it was like looking at fifteen pictures layered over top of each other. Then the sound of a yell and a crash as the physical transfer was completed and the transferred party promptly flew back, crashing into the far wall, the screen shattering on impact.

 

“When I say account for variables, I mean _account for variables_ , INCLUDING INERTIA you—“ Peepers stopped when he noticed the room had gone almost completely silent. Alan was staring, horrified, at the mess of smoking and melted wires before him. The Watchdogs were all staring at the floor under the cracked screen. Peepers felt more than heard as the ground of the planet below them finished collapsing in on itself.

 

He shoved his way through the crowd roughly, making it to the front. He felt like a brick of lead dropped into his stomach when he saw the scene sitting before him.

 

Wander was unconscious on the ground, surrounded by the broken glass of the screen. He looked over at Nathan, who looked upset, but not particularly surprised. “Inertia,” he murmured. “We missed. Hater’s down in _there_ now.” He pointed at the screen readout, which showed a series horribly, terribly, mind-numbingly deep trenches.

 

“Oh grop,” Peepers groaned, and promptly sat down on the ground, head in his hands. “Hater’s gonna _kill_ me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [nathan? like nathan rosen? no? look if you assumed i'm just a literary nerd you have another thing coming. for the sake of belief we're assuming in this universe that the existence of time orbells can be attributed to wormhole theory and that by then technology would've long since perfected the theory and been able to put it into practice and that even with such a low quality budget the science department on hater's ship would be able to figure out the math and--okay i'm a science geek that's all you need to know, i promise this is somewhere in the realm of believably. sue me.  
> this'll be a three-parter looking at how i've mapped my work, kids, so buckle up and prepare for three whole ~3,000+ word chapters of me playing with character development, this shit is going to get real self-indulgent real quick.  
> Edit: ...three+ parts. three or more. i hate this]


	8. The Ol' Switcheroo, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is annoyed at everybody else and things look bleak. Meanwhile, the Watchdogs are as competent as previously anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [No go away this cannot be 6,000 words this can NOT be 6,000 WORDS LEAVE ME ALONE OH MY GOD  
> Okay just... leave me alone, I like making the Watchdogs more important than they actually are. Read all of my pain and suffering. Writer's block is not a myth. It's like Mothman. So very real.]

 

Peepers sat in his chair and stared at the papers that lay before him.

 

It had been exactly forty-nine minutes since Hater and the zbornak had gone under. Peepers was confident that Hater had survived, the zbornak more than likely made it as well. But they hadn’t been found yet, so clearly there was a need for a plan to find them. Before him he had dozens of plans, topographical maps of the one-mile radius surrounding where they had fallen in. But the crevices only fell a short way before devolving into spaghetti-like tunnel systems, many of which following the disaster would become similar to high-power wind tunnels as the air temperature attempted to find equilibrium. Odds were, they were now trapped deep, deep, deep under the planet’s horribly damaged crust, possibly trapped there, likely in need of search and rescue, but they had no idea where the team should be sent and no guarantee that whoever they sent wouldn’t get lost as well.

 

Oh, and the orange idiot was in the infirmary, at the insistence of several of the other Watchdogs, pretty badly banged up after slamming into and shattering a monitor at full speed. The nurse on duty said he wasn’t sure how he wasn’t even worse off. One of them wasn’t sure how he was alive. Apparently he just got really lucky.

 

Peepers laid his head on the table with a groan of frustration, resisting the urge to rip up the papers he was reading. He was a military strategist with moderately advanced knowledge of science and technology, not a glorping disaster team paramedic! The Watchdogs never had to do a search and rescue mission like this, and he had exactly zero experience in this field. Zero. Zilch. None. But he was still the best strategist on the ship, so, unfortunately, the work still fell to him. If they had full resources, if they had more time, if they knew what was going on down there, if they knew where they were, if if if _if._ How about, _if_ he didn’t come up with a plan _within the hour,_ then morale would be at an all-time low, which would drastically effect odds of success. Can’t just send more Watchdogs down, they’d lose a minimum of 25% of everyone they sent, who would then need rescue as well, and grop knows that nobody would volunteer for this job anyways, no matter how high the stakes. Those were bad odds and if push came to shove, he would have to just start drafting them in. Which would not help.

 

His phone rang a few inches from his head, making him jump. He picked it up. “What?” he snapped viciously.

 

From the other end, he heard a several startled shouts and the stammering of a few Watchdogs. “IF I SEE _ONE MORE_ OF YOU FIRE I _SWEAR TO GROP_ —Oh, hi Commander Peepers, so uh, he woke up, sir!”

 

Peepers stood up quickly. “What happened?”

 

“He woke up and kinda just—NO, DON’T FIRE AT HIM, JONES, FOR THE LOVE OF—he freaked out a little bit and took off and we’re having trouble catching him right now? So, there’s that. OH MY GROP, MURPHEY, TAKE JONES’S GUN BEFORE HE HURTS SOMEONE! So if you could, I dunno. Assist us somehow? Or. Call for backup? Or whatever you do when this kinda thing happens?” There was a short pause of silence. “It’s just, this seems like kind of a common problem by now and I figured this would be something you know how to—“

 

“Wait, isn’t he still injured?!”

 

“I, uh, don’t think he noticed that, sir.” There were some shouts from the other end. “Or cares. One of the two. Both? Yeah. Nah.”

 

“Where are you?”

 

“Uh… infirmary.”

 

“Don’t lose him.”

 

“How are we supposed to—“

 

Peepers hung up the phone, sighing deeply and shuffling his papers into some semblance of order. “And here we go again with this song and dance,” he said, irritation clear as a neon sign. He took off running down the halls.

 

He could hear the racket way before he got there, meaning that the weirdo was definitely getting away. Peepers turned a corner and nearly bowled directly into a small squad of Watchdogs. He skidded to a stop in front of them, and they nearly tripped over themselves as soon as they recognized him. He tuned out all but the one in front. “Sir, he’s awake and we lost sight of him about a hall back, we don’t know where—“

 

Peepers’s frustrated groan cut him off. “One job! One job only! Don’t lose sight of him! And what did you do!? UGH!” Peepers snatched a gun from the soldier in front. “Split up and cover the exits! And for the love of grop do _not_ shoot to kill, authorization is on warning shots only! Unfortunately, he’s an asset in the current circumstances, just don’t let him leave the ship. Spread the word to the others.”

 

“Y-Yes, sir,” the Watchdog stammered, and Peepers took off at a run again down a hallway. He ran towards the sound of blaster fire, and sure enough, he caught sight of something bright orange turning a corner up ahead.

 

He narrowed his eye, picking up the pace.

 

Several times Wander reached a viable exit, only to have to suddenly duck and dodge in another direction when he saw the squadrons of Watchdogs standing there to meet him. Turning a corner, sudden blaster fire (all going clear over his head), sprinting off the other direction, turning another corner, sudden blaster fire (some ricocheting off the ground at his feet), sprinting off the other way. It didn’t take long for Peepers to be pretty close behind. He didn’t have his hat. That was good for them.

 

Suddenly, Peepers turned a corner (only five or six meters behind), and he was gone. Vanished in the empty hallway. A moment of panic, confusion, before the commander was back to cool and calculating. Peepers scanned the hallway and noted the nearest door to his current position, realizing smugly that the weirdo had tried every exit on the ship already, and had nowhere left to go now. He was probably planning on waiting them out for a little while then trying again. The smart choice, clearly, and quick thinking, the crafty little...

 

Peepers opened the door to the room (one of the board rooms, actually) and there he was, back to the far wall, breathing heavily, the expression of a caged animal on his face. He pressed even harder to the wall when Peepers took a step forward, eyes darting back and forth. Peepers took note of the bandages wrapped around his torso, several more on his right wrist and forearm. Peepers narrowed his eye, shifting his weight on his feet…

 

And tossed over his gun.

 

Wander blinked, no less panicked, but now significantly more confused as the blaster slid across the ground, ending up about a foot away from him. His eyes moved from the blaster, up to Peepers, then back down again. His face split into his usual cheery grin, his entire disposition shifting in a single moment.

 

“Oh, we’re friends today, then?” he asked, voice bordering on chipper, although his breath was still labored.

 

“For now. No need to continue flipping out,” Peepers said, crossing his arms.

 

Wander glanced down at the gun again and kicked it into the far corner of the room, one hand moving up to scratch at his head. He seemed almost sheepish. “Real sorry about that, I just, I woke up in a hospital and panicked.” He suddenly caught his arm out of the corner of his eye, and he turned it over, frowning when he noted the bandages, apparently for the first time. “So… I was on Sylvia’s back, we were running from the giant snake fella and trying to get Hater out as well, they were shouting at each other, the abyss opened up underneath us, and… I was crashing into a wall.” He picked at the bandage with one hand. “What happened? And why does my chest feel like it’s melting?”

 

“Fractured arm, five cracked ribs, possible concussion. If we had fully stocked medicine you’d be fine probably, but for some reason you ate up the last of the dwindling reserves and now we’re going to have to ration until the next supply pickup.”

 

“Well, I’m not concussed anymore, and my arm feels… okay, but the fracture needs time to settle,” he said slowly. “And I can only feel _two_ cracked ribs right now…”

 

“What?” Peepers asked, blinking. “How can you tell?”

 

He shrugged. “Travelin’ the galaxy, you learn what a busted bone feels like,” he said simply. “So we’re definitely friends today, then?”

 

“Yes. And there’s a reason for that.” Peepers was about to go into an explanation, but he noted how Wander ducked his head slightly, hand moving back to scratch at his scalp. “…Okay, what?”

 

“It’s nothin’, just. Hat,” Wander murmured.

 

“That’s in the infirmary,” Peepers said.

 

“Right. Um. Can I… _not_ have to go back in there?” he suggested, smiling meekly.

 

“…Why.”

 

“I just… don’t like bein’ in hospitals,” he murmured, embarrassed.

 

“Why?”

 

“Um… bad history with them,” Wander said evasively. “You could say… I don’t have a very good standing history with doctors.”

 

Peepers huffed, glaring. “Fine, I’ll get one of the Watchdogs to do it then,” he said impatiently, beginning to get irritated by how cryptic he was suddenly being.

 

“Alright,” Wander said, relaxing slightly, smile returning almost right away. “I didn’t see Sylvia in there, is she off helpin’ with whatever the problem is already?”

 

“She _is_ the problem.” Wander looked a little confused at that, and Peepers turned to leave, waving him along. “Just follow me. Technically you’re our… _guest_ right now, but _try_ and be on your best behavior. Tensions are high.”

 

“Sir, yessir,” Wander said, trotting up to follow him. Peepers ignored him.

 

The nomad walked alongside Peepers as they started making their way through the ship, looking around curiously. Peepers waved an arm as they passed troops, dismissing them from their posts with the motion. As soon as they saw this, the troops were relaxing, waving and calling out greetings to Wander happily. Wander returned them all, calling out to the troops by name, seemingly uncaring that not ten minutes before, those same Watchdogs had been shooting at him. Peepers stared at him suspiciously, wondering how this guy had already memorized the names and faces of all the men. Hater could barely tell Peepers out from the rest of the Dogs, let alone distinct between Jack and Ryan, who sounded almost exactly the same, to the point where if Peepers got one of them over radio he regularly confused them. Wander didn’t even hesitate, thought, recognizing them instantly.

 

Wandering weirdo.

 

He barked some orders to a few of the Dogs, telling them to go and get the orange weirdo’s hat, and to assemble the usual officers in the main room. He mentioned slightly more quietly that they should probably bring some coffee with them, as nobody was leaving the meeting room until they set a plan in stone.

 

“Uh, Mister Peepers?” Wander piped up after a moment. “I was just wondering if you were gonna tell me what happened on the way, or, if that would be later on, or—“

 

“Do you want the long version or the short one? We’re a little low on time right now,” Peepers said flatly, tolerance already low.

 

“Is… that a rhetorical question, because—“

 

“You made it onto the ship, Lord Hater and the zbornak fell into the tunnel systems of the planet and we have no idea where they are. Right now we’re planning how to get them out without losing anyone else. They’re probably fine, but definitely lost, and likely in need of a search and rescue team to find and recover them safely before something worse happens to them.” He saw the dismay on Wander’s features quite clearly, and took a moment to appreciate it.

 

“Aww, why’d you have to say it like that?”

 

“Like ripping off a band-aid,” Peepers said calmly, punching in the access code on a larger door, stepping through into the greater hallway beyond. The moment he crossed the threshold, he stepped back again in alarm.

 

“COMMANDER PEEPERS, _SIR,”_  shouted a Watchdog, detaching from the group that was clustered and waiting in the hallway and stomping towards him, their labcoat fluttering behind them like a cape, glasses flashing dangerously. “MIGHT I ASK WHAT THE _GROP_ YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?”

 

“Uh, you… what?” Peepers asked, confused. The Watchdogs had all stopped talking and were staring at them, some muffling laughter with their hands. He glanced up and down the Watchdog who looked ready to deck him. One of the nurses… no, doctor. Doc in training?

 

“Why in the name of GROP—“ The doctor seized Wander by the good arm and dragged him a foot forward, making the nomad yelp. “—Are you letting this guy walk around!? TWO fractured ribs, ONE broken limb, AT LEAST one torn muscle, why, I ought to—“

 

“Easy, Grey!” another Watchdog popped up, putting his hand on the doctor’s shoulder, tugging him back. “Be cool! C-Peeps was the one who got him back in one piece, not his fault!”

 

Dr. Grey stared down Peepers for another few seconds, then exhaled, turned and started walking, Wander still in his grip. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. This idiot is going to the infirmary. NOW.” Wander looked ready to protest, but the doc looked ready to kill, so he seemed to be holding it in for the time being. The doctor dragged him off down the hall, muttering darkly. “Honestly, does nobody else on this ship care about health, I’m gonna lose it if I see one more flarpin’ frood waltzin’ in, “Oh, my leg hurts”, what you get for _not taking a break from leg day_ when you’re injured, got a med bay full of dogs that are either dying or just whining, honestly…”

 

A moment of silence went by. The Watchdog who stepped in looked at Peepers. “Way to salt _his_ sandwich, hope you don’t need medical attention any time in the near future, Dr. Grey is a lunatic,” he said, voice cool and personable.

 

“Call me C-Peeps again and Dr. Grey’ll be sewing back on your limbs,” Peepers said without flinching, walking to type in the command for the meeting room. “If the idiot runs away again, tell him to show up for the meeting. The next dog you see is on Wander Watch, and is to not let him out of his sight until Hater is back on the ship in one piece. We’re on a time limit here.”

 

The door hissed shut again. The Watchdog stared at the door for a few moments.

 

“Wow. That guy is just. He is just savage. Someone get that man some iced tea, he needs to cool it. Show him to the lost and found, help him locate his chill. Like, seriously. Wow.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sylvia yelped in surprise as she skidded back down the face of the cliff, scrabbling for a handhold. She huffed in irritation as she realized how far she had fallen back to the ground. Great.

 

“Try climbing faster.”

 

She grumbled under her breath, taking another running start. She got further up the sheer rock wall, but then the clay-like stone crumbled under her grip, sending her scrambling for a hand hold, pushed back another yard. At least this time she stayed on the wall.

 

“You need to grab the _steady_ rocks.”

 

She glared at the rock wall, gritting her teeth. She made a leaping grab and caught on a sharp ledge, only about a centimeter wide, clinging. Her arms shook as she tried to pull herself upward. Her foothold crumbled away and she was slamming into the ground, laying for a few moments, limbs already becoming tired from her efforts.

 

“Ooh. Bad try. You’re not very good at this whole ‘climbing’ thing.”

 

“Alright, you know what?” Sylvia turned around and glared. Hater was sitting a few meters away on a rock, arms crossed, looking bored. “You should really be more concerned than this.”

 

“And why is that?” he asked dully.

 

“You’re stuck down here too, idiot!” Sylvia said angrily, clenching her fists. “You realize that BOTH of us are lost, right? Not just me?”

 

He shrugged. “Peepers’ll be here in like, five minutes tops.”

 

“You said that half an hour ago.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s true this time.”

 

Sylvia groaned in aggravation, narrowing her eyes at the rock wall again. It was difficult to see, practically pitch-black, and it seemed like things were luminated almost exclusively by a bluish glow in the cavern floor. Maybe some kind of moss or something, whatever it was, it was barely anything to work with. “You are _not_ helpful.”

 

“Oh my grop. Stop the presses. I’m not helping my sworn enemy, this is breaking news.”

 

Sylvia inhaled, exhaled, tried to channel any semblance of patience. She turned around. “Where do you think we are?” she asked slowly.

 

“Uh, underground. Duh,” he said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Yeah, wow, careful, save the breathtaking conclusions for the science fair,” she said sarcastically. “Where underground?”

 

“Underground on the planet,” he said.

 

“Oh my grop you’re useless _alright,_ so do you _realize_ how large this planet is?” Sylvia asked, tone beginning to sharpen. “This is one of the largest planets in this system. How long would it take to search even a third of the upmost layers of tunnels, assuming you don’t get lost at the very start? Take a guess.”

 

Hater furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. He glanced at the wall, anger mounting fast. “Look, it’s way easier to just wait here anyways, it’d take like, a day at most to find me, it’s not rocket science.”

 

“It could take weeks,” Sylvia said flatly. “And I don’t know how long starvation takes to set in for you, but for me it’s about a month of moderate exercise if you’re in good shape, which I am. We won’t survive until a rescue team finds us unless we move as far up as possible.”

 

“Woah woah woah, who said anything about _we_ , I’m not going _anywhere_ with you,” Hater said, bristling.

 

Sylvia used all her willpower to not tear her hair out. “I don’t like it any more than you do, alright? But fortunately for _your_ safety and wellbeing, Wander is a good influence on me. I’m not going to ditch you in a tunnel system deep within a planet’s crust, no matter how _unbelievably_ and impossibly appealing the idea sounds. I mean it, you have no idea how much I would love to leave you behind to die and possibly get eaten by a giant snake-worm-beast-thing, it would be the best decision of my life, not to mention the easiest. I would not even hesitate if not for my significantly more moral friend.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“No, seriously, it would be all of my dreams come true to let you just lie here and rot away for being such a jerk for all that time and almost killing us just about every day of our lived because you’re a terrible individual.”

 

“I get it.”

 

“It wouldn’t just be fun for all the normal reasons either, I think it would also be really poetic to ditch you down here in the depths of a planet to rot away, a sort of irony, a testament to how terrible of an individual you are for even a new-do-gooder to not help you because you’re so terrible.”

 

“Stop rubbing it in.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that if not for the fact that I’ve pretty thoroughly reformed, you’d definitely already be dead by now, it would not only be easy but also _really_ satisfying to just—“

 

“ _You can stop now.”_

 

“I’m not leaving you behind no matter how difficult you make it for me, to make short a long speech,” Sylvia finally said. “So you can either help me or you can—“ She stopped talking, going still. She glanced up and down the tunnel, then up at the gaping ceiling of the cavern. “Did you hear that?”

 

“Hear what?”

 

“Skittering. Like, something walking. Something with claws just…” She trailed off, going quiet. She slowly moved so her back was to the wall. She heard the sound again, like a cellophane bag deflating, echoing from far away in the chamber. “Okay, there’s definitely something down here,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Other than the massive scaly nightmare?” Hater said, looking bored. “I’m pretty sure I can handle a little beetle or something, my pet is a flesh-eating spider beast.”

 

Sylvia looked up towards the dark abyss above them, eyes widening. “Uh, think you can handle an entire legion of ‘little beetles’?”

 

Hater looked up finally, and in an instant he was scrambling towards the center of the chamber, looking horrified. It looked like the darkness of the ceiling above them was descending, a hundred thousand glistening shapes slowly crawling downwards, the sound of skittering growing louder, a patient orchestra of horrible little legs against the stone walls.

 

“Oh, that’s disgusting, that’s just… oh my grop.” Sylvia put a hand over her mouth, going nauseous just looking at the insects. Hater was faring far worse, staggering backwards, eyes wide in horror. “Unless it’s been that five minutes, I think we’re going to need to fare on our own for a little while.”

 

Hater glared at her, a disgust that didn’t quite rival that of the bugs (nearly to eye level on the walls now, almost to the floor). “I’m defending _myself,_ not you.”

 

“Whatever,” Sylvia snorted, pacing in a slow circle, already eyeing the bugs. “I could take them alone if I had to.”

 

“Whatever,” Hater muttered.

 

The first of the strange, beetle-like monstrosities reached the ground, and the sound of fighting echoed through the tunnel system.

 

* * *

 

 

Peepers looked down at his watch, dread settling in his stomach as he watched the seconds count down. Four, three, two… yippee. Exactly ten hours since they lost Hater, and planning was going badly. Awesome. Just fantastic.

 

He listened to the guy up front (Nathan must have no life, why is he spending his time helping with the situation, come on, get a hobby or something), tapping his fingers against the tabletop. Every time they came up with a plan, it came down to the same thing. Funds, funds, we’d do this but we can’t afford it, that’d work but we’re under a tight budget, yadda yadda yadda _grop._ He knew that things were tight, he knew they were short on supplies, he knew all of this, but for grop’s sake couldn’t they take this into account _before_ they stood and went to the front of the room?

 

The door hissed open and everyone’s gaze turned.

 

Wander’s smile stretched wide, eyes surveying the room, completely ignoring the somber mood. “Heya, fellas! Here to help!” he said cheerfully, walking jauntily to one of the chairs and plopping down, hand reaching up to the brim of his hat, tipping it politely.

 

Another Watchdog stumbled in behind him, clearly out of breath. “Commander Peepers, sir, h… _huff…_ he’s cleared to be back on… _hff…_ on regular activities, s… sir,” he panted. “He’s also… um… he’s banned from the infirmary…sir.”

 

Peepers glared at Wander, who was just smiling innocently, swinging his legs. “ _Why.”_

 

The Watchdog took a moment to compose himself, finally standing at attention. “He kept breaking things trying to leave the ward, sir.”

 

Peepers massaged the sides of his head. “Okay. Alright. Whatever. So he’s all fixed now?”

 

“Yes, sir, we’re pretty sure, mostly.” He started sweating under the glare Peepers was giving him. “Um, he wasn’t technically in our records as far as how to treat him, his species didn’t come up on our charts for some reason, but, we think he’s healed now probably?” He broke eye contact nervously. “Either way, he says he’s fine, and we can’t really keep him trapped in there, so—“

 

“Whatever. Dismissed. Back to whatever it is you usually do,” Peepers said, waving the guard away. The guard blinked, eyes glancing around the room, before retreating, looking downcast.

 

Wander watched him go, expression falling. He looked back at Peepers, then turned to the door. “Thanks for all the help, friend! You did a great job!” he called. The door hissed shut.

 

A beat of awkward silence fell.

 

“You were saying something?” Peepers said, looking over at Nathan.

 

“Oh. R-right,” the scientist stammered. “Um, yes, as I was saying before.” He turned back to the whiteboard that had been pushed into the room, picking back up the marker. “So theoretically, we could space out our Dogs in a one-per-square-fifty meters, have them descend downwards by drill with relative simplicity, but the tracking would obviously be flawed at best given the still-shifting topography of the environment and if even one of them gets sucked into one of the wind tunnels, death would be almost certain for a solid 14-18% of all Dogs sent as collapse would occur across a wide range of the planet’s surface.” There was a soft sound from one side of the room. Wander’s eyes were wide, and he looked horrified. Nathan blinked. “Uh. So, we can’t go with that one, for obvious reasons.”

 

One of the soldiers raised his hand. “Uh, why can’t we just use that transportalizer thing that we have down in level b3?”

 

Nathan blinked. “Transportalizer? We have a teleporter, a, uh, transport ship, a portal prototype…?”

 

“Yeah. One of those, the uh, teleporter thing. Sends someone out, brings them back after the preset time. That’d work, right?” the Dog asked, persisting.

 

“Well, if we knew there was an empty space, maybe, but we don’t. We might just end up teleporting someone into a wall. They’d… suffocate almost instantly due to the pressure. We’d have… hold on.” He picked up a calculator from the table, glancing down at the spreadsheet of information on the planet. “Yeah, that’s about a 20% chance of death, and we wouldn’t be sure they’d even find him anyways.”

 

A soft sound of discomfort that only Peepers payed attention to. Wander looked a little freaked out by that plan. Wow, what a baby. Peepers looked back at Nathan. “Percent chance of finding him that way?” he asked flatly.

 

“Uh… I’m looking at…” Nathan hesitated, scribbling down some numbers, typing in his calculator at a breakneck pace. “Like… maybe… one in… sheesh. It’d take a minimum of 13:9,400 tries, sir, and we just don’t have the time.”

 

“Or…” Wander spoke up from where he was sitting. “Maybe I could just go ahead in and find them, then go back up and grab y’all to be the rescue party!”

 

Peepers felt like he was getting a headache. “No. If it were that simple, I already would’ve kicked you out to start looking. This rock is massive and full of wind tunnels and possibly underground lifeforms and grop knows what else. Dropping you in there is throwing a paper ball into a lava lake. The odds are horrible.”

 

“But I’m real fast, real good at this sorta thing, and _real_ lucky,” Wander said, looking hopeful.

 

“It won’t work,” Peepers said, tone dull. “Until the wind settles down _at minimum_ then we can’t rely on luck and speed to—“

 

His phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up quickly, heard shouting from the other side. “Sir! Update on the situation down here!”

 

“Did they find them? Are they okay?” Wander looked ready to vault the table.

 

“What’s happening?” Peepers asked, ignoring the looks of agitation being exchanged around the table.

 

“Water spouts, sir, the superheated air found wells of water and has started to shoot steam and—sir, we had to clear a few sectors, it just wasn’t safe.”

 

“I want a report sent, get information on it, temperature, volume, anything at all,” Peepers said, heart sinking. “Get with your field lieutenant with new developments like this, only call me if you actually _find_ them, understood, Major?”

 

“Y-yes, sir, understood s—“ Peepers hung up, looked at Nathan.

 

“What is it?” the Dog asked, shoulders already falling.

 

“Water spouts.”

 

Groans rang through the room, and Wander hopped out of his chair. “I gotta do something, Mister Peepers, I just gotta!” The nomad said. “If it’s getting worse then that’s all the more reason to let me go start looking!”

 

“There’s no clearance on the tunnels until we figure out the core temperature.” He leaned his head on his forearms, groaning. “Water spouts of all things, now there’s water to worry about too, probably burning or drowning down there…”

 

Wander started pacing, agitation clear on his face, one hand reaching for his scalp, gripping there, eyes wide. “What if they’re hurt, they’re down there all alone probably scared half t’death and waiting for rescue and now there’s water, and I know Syl can swim but only for so long and she’s been runnin’ around so much and I’m not sure if she can carry Hater all that well and a’course she’s awful good at handling heat but I dunno if she could deal with that for very long and—“ He gasped, stopping dead for a moment. “Oh my goodness, what if she doesn’t know I’m alright either? She’ll be worried about that too and while she’s distracted tryin’ to find me she’ll get even more hopelessly lost and she’ll be stuck down in the deep depths of that planet _forever and—“_

 

Peepers tried his best to tune out the rambling panic (as he was used to doing by then with Hater when anything went sour), focusing on the notification that came in on his tablet. He skimmed the report, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. “The water’s about 35 degrees underneath the surface, cooled to about 25 when it reaches air,” he announced. “So non-lethal.”

 

They glanced at each other, confused. “That’s not that hot, how are there water spouts? Water freezes at like 35 degrees, right?” one soldier asked, confused.

 

“Celsius, you heathens,” Nathan said, looking unamused. “Hot- _ish._ It must be pressurized water, not heated steam. Weird, not impossible. So they’re probably not drowned or boiled if there’s a bunch of water pockets in the tunnel systems, and it’s probably isolated to certain pockets that were ruptured by the systemic collapse. They’re most likely sitting high and dry, or, well, low and dry.”

 

A sigh of relief swept through the room. Wander didn’t look completely convinced, but at least he sat back down.

 

“Alright, so now that we’ve eliminated options, we need to think of how to send out search-and-rescue Dogs so there’s the least possible risk. I’m willing to consider any odds better than 15% casualties at this point. In case it wasn’t clear by that moment of panic, things look a little bit bleak.”

 

A moment of silence fell over the room again.

 

“Wander, any suggestions?” Nathan finally said from his place at the head of the room.

 

Wander glanced around the table. “Well, I’d say Mister Peepers is the best one here when it comes to planning things and whatnot,” Wander said politely.

 

“I invade planets, infiltrate military bases, corrupt political systems, and sign paperwork. This isn’t my area of specialty,” Peepers said. “You’re the only one here who would have any idea how to do this.”

 

“Well… I don’t really… _plan_ anything,” Wander said slowly. “I just do what I think is right. You start off on the right path, and you’ll end up in the right place. But… there’s no path to follow. Just a bunch of deep, dark, terrifying tunnels of death.”

 

“So no suggestions?” Peepers asked, looking unamused.

 

“I still think letting me go and find them is a good plan. That’s my favorite plan,” Wander said.

 

“Off the table,” Peepers said again with finality. “We’re taking suggestions now. Anyone can feel free to stand up and write on the board.”

 

The Watchdogs glanced around warily at each other. One Watchdog sat forward, raising his hand.

 

“So I’m thinking we get like, those ropes that kids use in kindergarten, tie together like a mile long rope, right…”

 

* * *

 

 

Sylvia was getting really, really tired.

 

The fight was over fairly quickly. Although it seemed like there was a tidal wave of shells and pincers, they were individually actually not that scary. There was a brief moment of terror as she let her tail touch the ground for a moment too long and she was being swarmed, but with an appropriate amount of yelling and flailing she got them off of her. Hater was efficient at fighting, if not just a little bit cocky. Either way, after about 60% were squished into a pulp, the rest didn’t take long to scurry back away into the darkness.

 

It took some more talking, but eventually Sylvia convinced Hater to get moving. She took her best guess at which way would lead them upwards and started walking. The crevice seemed to be never-ending, nearly unchanging. The only moments of interest were one point when she’d found a particularly bright patch of ground and the time they’d found a trickle of water moving across their path. Not much, but enough to wash the dirt from her hands and the muck of the insects from her feet. Seriously, they were so gross.

 

Otherwise, the walk was made in dead silence. There was palpable tension in the air, but neither of them felt like dealing with another argument, so they just kept their eyes facing forward.

 

They couldn’t walk forever though. It only took about two hours for Hater to complain that his feet were starting to hurt. After another, Sylvia started feeling some semblance of fatigue, and his whining persisted onwards, rising in irritation. She could only get another half-hour or so onward before he said that there was no way they could keep walking like this, they needed to take a break. Another half-hour for her to finally give in and sit down.

 

“Your fault if we get jumped by more beetles,” Sylvia muttered.

 

She wasn’t positive how much time was passing underground, and it was seriously freaking her out. She assumed they must’ve woken up around midday, and now they were nearly into the evening. She didn’t want to make camp yet. She needed to know they were getting anywhere first. Any landmark at all. Just find a landmark and set up camp there—basic survival stuff. One way or another, something would find them, which is better than nothing at all.

 

“We need to keep moving,” Sylvia said, standing up again.

 

“Aww, what? It’s been like, twenty minutes!” Hater said, annoyed.

 

“I know. And that’s twenty minutes of progress lost. On your feet, let’s go.”

 

“Why the heck should I listen to you, huh? You’re a dumb horse dinosaur, for all I know you’re making this up as you go!” Hater protested, aggression clear in his face.

 

Sylvia gritted her teeth. “What the _heck_ is your beef with me?! I get why you don’t like Wander, emotional insecurity, whatever, you’re subscribed to a lot of issues—but I didn’t do anything! For all intents and purposes, I’m the reason Wander isn’t bugging you always, at all times! What the heck did I specifically, as my own person, do to make you so annoyed with me!?”

 

Hater narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “Linguini von Breadstick,” he muttered.

 

She blinked, taking a moment to process this. “Wait, you’re _seriously_ still mad about that?” she asked, genuine surprise in her voice. “That was _months_ ago.”

 

“And guess what? It was a jerk move,” Hater said flatly.

 

“Oh my grop, you have got to be kidding—“

 

“Jerk. Move,” Hater repeated.

 

“Okay, you know what? That’s fair. If it’s any consolation, the entire thing was Wander’s idea. He would’ve done it himself if he wasn’t positive you would recognize him pretty quickly.” Sylvia said.

 

Hater glared in the opposite direction of her. “Still not cool. Pretending to go on a date. That’s just low.”

 

“Well, I’m _sorry._ I didn’t want to do it. And if you want, you can spend the time until we get found yelling at me about it, I seriously don’t care. But we’ve gotta get found at all, and we can’t afford to sit around like this any longer. We find a landmark and we’ll set camp. You have free reign to tell me off all you want for the entirety of the time that you’re walking, sound fair?”

 

Hater contemplated the suggestion for a few seconds, before he nodded once. “Deal. Shake on it.”

 

They shook hands once (both visibly gagging at the contact). “Great. Let’s go.” Sylvia turned to start walking.

 

“No, I’m leading the way this time,” Hater said, walking past her, head held high.

 

“You realize there’s only one direction to walk, right?”

 

“Shut up, Peepers.” A beat of silence passed. “I mean. You… horse… jerk.” Another beat. “Shut up.”

 

“Didn’t say a word.”

 

They continued onward into the darkness, and even from a distance, you could hear as Hater started to rant. His voice echoed really well. If you listened closely, you might have even been able to hear Sylvia roll her eyes.

 

On the surface of the planet, the sun began to set. End of day one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [yes, Dr. Grey was a RvB shoutout. raise the roof.  
> I actually have stuff already sort-of drafted for the next chapter, or at least a plan. hopefully it won't take another TWO WEEKS to write this one (6,000 words let me burn for my sins let me b u r n). yell at me on tumblr ima need it ;-; have a good day, stay in school]


	9. The Ol' Switcheroo, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation isn't the best. It isn't worst case scenario, but it also isn't good either, and everyone's just really tired. Could be better. Either way everyone just needs to calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [No you're lying this is not 9,200 words this is NOT ALLOWED TO BE 9,200 WORDS YOU LIAR  
> (wake me up) wake me up inside (can't wake up) wake me up inside (save me)  
> just let me sleep]

 

Peepers had his head down on the conference table again.

 

They’d been sitting in there for about twelve hours so far. He felt completely drained, both physically and emotionally. Nathan’s voice had started giving out from having to yell at the Dogs, correcting them about false scientific information and going on a brief rant about how Celsius was clearly the better system of degrees, and how he’d genuinely rather use Kelvin of all things before he used Fahrenheit. They’d taken a brief detour to talk about the medical insurance that the Dogs all had, during which some of them got a little bit heated, and Peepers had to finally resort to making everyone put their blasters in a box and put it in the corner of the room because some of the Dogs felt “threatened” by others. It had taken all of Wander’s diplomacy to keep the room in check and he had eventually just taken the place of peacekeeper in the room, watching carefully to try and diffuse the fights before they got out of hand.

 

What a mess.

 

He noticed around the ten hour mark that some of the Watchdogs were getting a little antsy. To be fair, it was getting closer and closer to nighttime, and a few of them had skipped dinner to get to the meeting. But it wasn’t until now, the middle of the fourth argument on which one was a stalag _tite_ and which was the stalag _mite_ that he decided they had no chance of pulling anything together like this.

 

“No, listen, the stalagmite is the one on the ground,” Nathan corrected, voice cracking at the end of his sentence, voice raspy. “Mite stands mightily, Tite hangs tightly. That’s the memory trick I learned when I was maybe ten, it’s not rocket science.”

 

“What, are you a geographer now too?” Richard asked with a huff.

 

“ _Geologist._ A geographer studies relationships between regions, a geologist studies rocks, you dingus, and no, I’m not. But I’m pretty sure I still know that information better than you do.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I will as soon as you learn your vocab.”

 

Wander leaned forward quickly. “I think we’re getting a little aggressive here, and I’m not sure that fighting and calling names is really helping us solve the—“

 

“ _Stay out of it,_ ” the two said in tandem, and Wander sat back again quickly as they started bickering in earnest, several other Dogs jumping in to defend one side or the other.

 

“ALRIGHT, enough of this conversation, everyone!” Peepers piped up, looking up finally, the beginnings of a migraine building in the back of his head. “I think we’re gonna have to wrap this up before we all lose our minds, great, let’s break, yeah? Be back here again in twelve hours with more useful ideas, thanks, get out.”

 

The Watchdogs stood up from their chairs, walking to the door, most without much haste, looking worn out. Nathan still quietly bickered about the differences in words as he left, and Peepers did his best to ignore them all, staring down at his papers, covered in halfway-written ideas and incomplete diagrams.

 

Every time they got anywhere with any idea, another Dog shut it down or called out more problems. Any time they tried to make solutions to the presented limitations yet another Dog would chime in on the poor odds. The random tangents on any and every single tiny little detail had ended up with quite literally nothing being accomplished and fifteen ideas being spitballed but not properly hashed out. He wasn’t sure that even 10% of the time they’d spent had been productive. Looking down at the papers, he felt like he was punched in the chest as he realized how poor the odds of success were for all of them. He didn’t have the exact math yet, but he knew it couldn’t be good, just looking down at how poor the odds were across the board.

 

Suddenly in his peripherals Peepers saw movement by the door. Wander was still standing in the doorway, rocking on his heels. How long had he been waiting there quietly? A minute? Five? Ten? He was being surprisingly patient. Hater would be about to lose it by then. He’d definitely already be interrupting any sec—

 

“Mister Peepers?” Wander chirped from where he was standing, shifting his arms from being crossed to being cradled behind his back.

 

Peepers sighed, put down his papers. Took a moment to compose himself. Turned. “Yes. What?” he said as flatly as he could.

 

Wander grinned sheepishly. “So, um, I couldn’t help but notice that tensions are running… a little high at the moment. And. I was wondering if—well, if it isn’t too much trouble, of course—if there was some way I could maybe, possibly, even a little bit—“

 

“Wander,” Peepers cut in, voice calm, but projecting sky-high tension. “If you’re about to ask how you can help, I’m just going to stop you right now, because if I hear you say that one more time I’ll have no choice but to strangle you, and you’ll be useless to me dead.”

 

Wander inhaled as if to speak, but stopped himself. Thought it over for a few seconds. He tried again. “Then I won’t say that,” Wander finally said.

 

Peepers relaxed marginally. “Good.”

 

“So instead might I ask if I can _assist_ in—“

 

“Get out, just, please can you… just leave.” Peepers was definitely getting a migraine.

 

“Oh, I was also wondering if I’m just staying in a cell like normal or if I—“

 

“I don’t care. I _do not_ care. _Get out.”_

 

“…Right. See you tomorrow, Mister Peepers!” Wander left the room quickly, seeming to sense his mounting anger, somehow still with a spring in his step.

 

Peepers shuffled his papers into a pile, started on the walk back to his quarters. It was pretty quiet on this floor, it generally being reserved for some of the higher ranking officers, as well as it being pretty late at night. It was probably about an hour since they switched out the last rounds, the night shift should be started already. Which meant he now had that day’s reports waiting for him. Awesome. He pondered, not for the first time, just handing over the book work to anyone else. And, just like every single day before then for as long as he remembered, he repeated to himself “Give unto others…”. It had gotten to the point where he didn’t even think about what those words meant anymore, a quiet repetition carried over from who knows where, syllables without real meaning. Just some vague feeling of his duty as Commander.

 

He caught a look out the window and noted, with the slightest bit of relief, that the earth had stopped shifting entirely. He thought for a few moments before changing his course just slightly and taking the elevator upwards.

 

He walked into the control room, holding his head high. “Watchdogs, eyes up.” He barked, and all of the Dogs who were working jumped to their feet, turning to face him. A short burst of satisfaction—he’d expected to find them sleeping on the job. “We’re landing the ship at the center of the point where they fell,” he ordered, pacing forward calmly to look out the window. “We’re rationing everything else already, we can’t afford to keep burning fuel keeping ourselves in low orbit.”

 

“Yes, sir,” chorused a few of the troops, sitting back down and rolling over to their stations, beginning to type, all of them professional and calm.

 

Peepers almost started giving them a verbal pat on the back before he caught himself. He had a reputation to uphold, and he couldn’t afford to loosen up on them just yet. Not until everything was fixed again.

 

With that bit of business done, he swung back down to his quarters, fatigue beginning to weigh on him like a ton of bricks. He set his alarm for a few hours from then and fell asleep almost immediately.

 

* * *

 

 

Wander watched out the window with wide eyes as the ship landed, slowly but surely, a smooth descent before the slightest bounce as they hit the ground. He could hardly believe his luck! Here he’d been thinking he would have to jump ship while it was in the air and hope to catch himself before he hit the ground, but they were landing before he even had to! He started running (ignoring the pain that jolted through his chest), already knowing pretty well how to navigate the ship from all his past experiences, and he found his way into the docking bay—the ‘jaw’ of the ship—dashing out without even a moment’s hesitation.

 

The wideness of the world stretching around him is what made him stop.

 

Wasteland would be the best description of what it looked like topside. Endless rubble stretching out in every direction, mounds over to this side, trenches to another. It looked like an earthquake and a hurricane, a bomb hitting a field of landmines, all smushed together to cover one planet. No notable landmarks, just expansive nothingness permeated by a few caves and crevices leading directly downward. In the darkness of evening with only the stars, the bluish light gave everything an unearthly glow, almost unnatural. Ethereal. He felt his heart aching almost as much as his bad arm and his ribs as he realized that not even a full day before, the planet had been covered in abundant, beautiful life. He pushed the thought aside, knowing he couldn’t possibly do anything about it at that point.

 

He was cautious now, stepping towards the nearest crevice and peering down, mindful of the churned stones and careful not to slip on them. It went down, down, down, what could’ve been a few dozen meters or so, then it chopped into fragments again, and he couldn’t see any further, the darkness of night making it impossible to see.

 

No way to get down from that direction, then. He’d have to use a cave.

 

He moved at a light jog towards the nearest tunnel, and the moment he got over the slight lip of the cave entrance, he was hit with what felt like a wind tunnel’s force, blowing him backwards, slipping on the uneven soil, falling on his back. The pain that jolted through his chest was enough to take his breath out of his lungs, his eyes sting, a high-pitched whine rise in the back of his throat. After a few moments the pain subsided again and he managed to sit up, take a few deep breaths.

 

He frowned, thinking for a few moments, straightening his hat on his head.

 

He walked back onto the ship.

 

He’d have to wait for a little while. He would just have to trust Sylvia and Hater to stay safe and keep each other alive until he could think of a good plan to go and help them on his own. Hopefully, nobody else would have to be put at risk to save them. Give it until morning at least, when he could hopefully see better, plan better, maybe get some sleep in the meantime, be well rested. Get more medicine out of his hat, patch himself up a little, try and see if he could get that last busted rib all fixed up.

 

He just… needed to wait until he was better prepared. There’s no way he could find them just yet, even if he tried. He knew it for a fact and so decided to try and get himself ready for the task until he had a real chance of actually making it.

 

(That didn’t make him feel like any less of a coward.)

 

* * *

 

 

Sylvia was beginning to contemplate re-reforming.

 

“Do it for Wander, do it for Wander, do it for Wander…” she repeated to herself quietly, trying her best to roll over and get any amount of sleep. Any at all. Unfortunately, as she had now learned, Hater snored like he was dying of pneumonia.

 

Time was difficult down here still, but her internal clock was usually right, so she was guessing it was sometime after midnight, but probably not morning yet. She’d been laying there for _hours_ trying to sleep, but her frayed nerves from having to put up with him for so long, combined with the generalized alertness and paranoia that she couldn’t shake while she was so vulnerable, as well as the hard stone under her back and the loud snoring—well, she wasn’t having much luck with it.

 

She made the mental note that sometime around midday, with his mediocre athletic ability and the fact that it was sinking in how super dead they’d be if nobody found them, Hater would probably be more than happy taking another break. Until then, she’d just have to make do and try and find resources.

 

Sylvia was still cursing herself mentally for not taking better advantage of that trickle of water they’d found earlier. Since then, they hadn’t found any more water, and the air had only now begun to get cooler. If they kept walking like this while it was hot and dry, soon they’d start getting dehydrated, and she wasn’t sure she could deal with lack of sleep, lack of food, _and_ dehydration for very long, even being as strong as she was.

 

She looked upwards, and observed that higher up, the crevice-like tunnel system seemed almost… foggy. Hopefully that meant condensation of some kind. She didn’t like the idea of it, but if she had to, licking the wall was better than dying of thirst in a pinch. This wasn’t her first rodeo when it came to being stranded somewhere without resources in strenuous circumstances. She just had to keep morale up for herself. As long as she could stay upbeat, then she could make it. She knew that if she started letting things get to her, it would only be more difficult. Stay positive. Stay positive.

 

Man, she missed Wander.

 

Apparently Hater hadn’t seen him as they’d fallen, so she assumed he either dove to safety or was close to topside, and he had his hat with him, so she wasn’t particularly worried. He could handle himself just fine, he was quick and resourceful. She just hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid until she could go find him. She hoped he was safe. She hoped in general.

 

_But for the love of grop she hoped Hater would stop snoring, that flag-drassin’…_

 

* * *

 

 

Peepers jolted awake at the sound of his alarm.

 

It took him a few seconds for his head to catch up to present moment, for him to sift through the prior day’s memories. He smacked his alarm off, rolling out of bed, irritation already seeping through him slowly but surely.

 

He had only barely gotten dressed in his uniform before one of the Dogs was hammering on his door excitedly. “Commander Peepers, sir!” they called, “Hurry up, you’re going to miss it!”

 

He grumbled under his breath, opening the door, murderous intent clear in his body language. “What am I going to miss, soldier?” he asked, tone chopped.

 

“The show, sir! Andy’s got a whole bit today on the current stuff going on, you’ve gotta see it, sir!” the Dog said happily, before a few more troops jogging past pulled him away, all of them enthusiastic about the situation.

 

Peepers grumbled, grabbing his helmet as he left his room. He never liked watching the stupid show, he hadn’t hired Andy on to run a dumb news show, he’d been hired to watch the cameras. But it couldn’t be helped. He walked to the common area on that floor, saw the Watchdogs crowded around the screen, shushing each other hurriedly, one fiddling with the volume button impatiently. Peepers felt annoyance spike up his back as he realized he wouldn’t be able to see all that well. He dragged a chair over from somewhere else, stood up on it and tried to get a good look as the dumb, upbeat intro song played, signaling the start of that hour’s bit.

 

“Hello hello hello my fellow Watchdogs, this is your humble hose, Andy the Watchdog, and welcome to today’s episode of Eye on the Skullship!” he greeted chipperly, and Peepers rolled his eye as the dumb intro slideshow played, grating a little bit on his nerves. “Today’s episode, we’re going to be talking about something a little more serious than our usual content. Today’s special guest is sure to be able to explain much better than I can. So, Wander.” The camera panned backwards and to the side slightly, revealing that Wander was sitting in the chair across from Andy.

 

Peepers sputtered. “Hold on a second, I did _not_ authorize for—“ he was shushed by the Watchdogs watching the screen, and he fell silent again quickly.

 

“Wander, now, I’m sure there’s not a single one of us here on the ship that’s not heard about you, huh, pal?” Andy teased, elbowing him.

 

Wander laughed in return. “Well, I’d say you’re probably right there, friend,” he agreed. “It’s a real shame about the circumstances and all, but I’m glad I can meet all of y’all regardless of the fact that you gotta try and capture me sometimes.”

 

“I’ll say!” Andy said. “Now, for any of us who _haven’t_ had the absolute pleasure of meeting you in person, why don’t you introduce yourself, what exactly do you, all that sort of stuff?”

 

“Alright then!” Wander turned to the camera, waving cheerfully. “Hiya, my name’s Wander, I travel the galaxy helpin’ folks in need and tryin’ to make everyone as happy as I can! I’ve been doing it for a long time, and my friend Sylvia—she’s real great, let me tell you—she helps me help folks too, and keeps us safe while we do it! And, that’s about it, really," Wander said, shrugging.

 

“Now, don’t be so modest there, pal, selling yourself short!” Wander waved the words off with a little grin. “Now, there’s been plenty of rumors going around the ship in the past day surrounding what’s happened to our noble leader, Lord Hater. You were present for what happened there, would you explain to all of us, diffuse any misinformation that’s floating around?”

 

“Well…” Wander’s eyes moved upwards as he thought back. “Me and Hater and Sylvia and Mister Peepers—oh, sorry, Commander Peepers, my bad—“ A few of the Watchdogs around the TV started to snicker. “—we were all hangin’ around on the planet, and suddenly it started rumbling like crazy, and this giant snake-lizard type thingamawhatzit came out of the ground and started tearing up everything! I was separated from Sylvia, so she started runnin’ my way, and I grabbed Hater and started doin’ the same thing. We met in the middle and got ourselves slick out of dodge as quick as we could! Mis—or, Commander Peepers was runnin’ for the ship so he could come and help, but I guess it was just too far away to properly come and get us. Sylvia’s one of the fastest runners I know—she won the Galactic Conjunction 6000, you know—but it took all of her speed and all of our might to try and get away. We just weren’t quick enough, though, and somehow I ended up on the ship while Lord Hater and Sylvia fell down into the tunnel systems. I got a little bit busted up in the process, but I’d say I’m better for the most part. I’m more concerned about helping out my friends!” He looked down at his sneakers. “We’ve been workin’ hard to try and figure out how to get ‘em out, but, it’s all kinds of dangerous down in there, and we don’t know what could be livin’ in those catacombs, so it’s takin’ us some time.”

 

“Incredible. Do you think they made it?” Andy asked, voice hushed.

 

“Not a sliver of doubt in my mind! Hater and Sylvia are tough cookies, they’re okay, I’m positive! But they’ll need some help getting out from the deep dark catacombs, we figure, so that’s what we’re tryin’ to do just now. All my energy is going into making sure they get out safe and sound!”

 

“Absolutely amazing,” Andy said, shaking his head in wonder. “Well, thank you so much for coming onto the show, now we’ll be going into our next interview with one of the ship’s leading scientists on how the planning so far has been going, here on Eye on the Skullship, with your humble host, Andy the Watchdog!”

 

Peepers jumped down from his perch, stomping away down the hall, annoyed. He tried his best to ignore the little giggles he occasionally heard from some of the Dogs as he passed, as well as the badly accented mutterings of “Mister Peepers”. He found the wandering weirdo sitting in the food court, surrounded by a couple of Watchdogs, all of whom looked happy as could be. Whatever Wander was saying was apparently really interesting.

 

He stopped before he was close, realizing that the Watchdogs generally acted differently whenever he wasn’t around. He considered his options for a few moments. Go up and join them outright, or try and be covert about it. Well, if he wanted honest information… He looked around and spotted a helmet sitting beside one Dog’s chair. He switched it out quickly with his own and moved to sit at the table behind them, holding a sandwich to look less suspicious, listening in as well as he could.

 

“Man, now I get why nobody wants to catch you, you’re a really cool guy,” one of the Watchdogs said as Peepers tuned in. Who was that, Rick? No, that was… Steven. “But honestly, calling Lord Hater just ‘Hater’? That’s really brave of you, pal.”

 

“Why so? Are you scared of him or summat?” Wander asked, sounding confused.

 

“What, Lord Hater?” one of the Dogs said, sounding surprised. It was Nico. No, Marco. Definitely Marco. “That guy? I’m not as worried about him, honestly.”

 

“Why’s that? I thought he was in charge ‘a y’all?” Wander asked.

 

“I mean… well, yeah. Technically. But we don’t have to deal with him very often.” That would be Ryan. No, wait, Greg. Some of the Dogs sounded _really_ similar. “We’re low-ranking officers, man, he never talks to us. He yells at the Commander, who yells at the Lieutenants, who yell at the Majors, who yell at the Sergeants, who yell at us.”

 

“…Wait, are y’all going by the marine system, air force…?”

 

“…we have our own thing,” Greg said with a little shrug. “I think that Lord Hater’s the guy who set up the titles in the ranking system, it gets a little confusing. We technically didn’t even have the title of Captain until we got Tim.”

 

“That’s fair.”

 

Nigel cleared his throat. “Yeah, anyways, uh. Lord Hater doesn’t ever really talk to us, we barely see the guy. So uh, we don’t really worry about him. He’s scary when we do see him, but, honestly he’s pretty much just a giant tool most of the time. Harmless if we don’t do anything dumb, just shouts a lot and freaks us out. We’re all usually just worried about _Peepers_.”

 

“Hmm?” Wander hummed. Peepers narrowed his eye.

 

“Yeah. Like, Lord Hater just sends us into battle, we all signed up for that, but Peepers…” Nigel trailed off. “It’s scary, man. He’s a strong guy, walks around to see that everything is going smoothly, and if we’re not doing something right, he’ll call us out, rough us up. It’s the worst when Lord Hater’s around, though. Since Lord Hater went under he’s been… I guess aggressive, but, at least the threat of bodily harm or stacking on extra duties is mostly gone. I dunno, just more yell-y, less punch-y.”

 

“We even made a name for it,” That would be Tently, speaking up for the first time. “We call it the Hate Area of Effect. The proximity between Lord Hater and Peepers is directly proportional to how many punches get thrown. He’s kind of a jerk, like… all the time, but it’s at its worst when Lord Hater is present.”

 

Peepers clenched his fists, anger bubbling in his chest. Lies. Blatant lies. He was always a jerk, it had nothing to do with Hater. He knew what being evil was all about and he just demonstrated that in his actions, it wasn’t rocket science. He ought to turn around and prove the point personally, those no-good insubordinate little—

 

“But, I mean, I get why he’s so high-strung, you know?” Peepers blinked as Marco spoke again. “It can’t be easy doing his job, I know I’d never last under the pressure. He’s basically running around the clock, and he has to deal with Hater at _all times_ , which can’t be easy. And… well, he’s… different.” Peepers felt his blood run cold. “I mean… well, we guys have all been talking a lot since… Wesley.” A soft breath ran through the table, the mood falling.

 

Steven spoke up, explaining. “Watchdogs take pride in uniformity most of the time, a hundred thousand faces that are all mirrors, and that’s great, but, we’re _not_ all the same. We’re individuals, and it stinks because we can’t express that as easily, and nobody can usually tell us apart—that’s really cool of you by the way, like, seriously—so when someone gets to look different than everyone else like he did, sometimes it’s jealousy, sometimes it’s just not knowing how to deal with it, but, we don’t treat them the same. Peepers is different than us too.”

 

“Among Watchdogs, being a millimeter short is a mile. Poor guy is like, three inches below the average, built to be seriously pretty scrawny, and... I just figure, that has _got_ to suck. And maybe that’s why he tries so hard, I guess. Something to make up for,” Greg said quietly.

 

No. They’re wrong. They’re wrong. He’s not different, he’s just smarter and more competent and that’s why he got to be the commander. That’s the only reason.

 

“I have a lot of respect for him,” Nigel said softly.

 

…What?

 

“Me too,” Steven agreed. “He’s a clever guy, knows his stuff, and probably could take over the galaxy alone if he really wanted. It wouldn’t be too hard, if he had the resources. Hater’s probably the only reason he sticks around. That, and he deserves way better soldiers than us.”

 

“Aww, y’all are great soldiers!” Wander assured them.

 

“Hah. Couldn’t catch you,” Tently muttered, amused.

 

“Aww, well…” Wander said, sounding embarrassed. “That’s not your fault, I’m just really good at… at running away from folks tryin’ to catch me. And you _have_ caught me before, I just got away again because Sylvia is REAL good at fightin’. That’s all. Sylvia’s a real fighter.”

 

A general murmur of assent went across the table. “Anyways, what we were trying to get at is…” Steven thought it over for a few seconds. “Well, it just gives us a lot of hope sometimes, having two really cool leaders. And yeah, Lord Hater sometimes can get a little… manic. But we still think he’s pretty cool overall. And Commander Peepers might get a little uptight and stiff, but he still does his best and tries to do anything he can for us when it gets down to the wire.”

 

“People keep transferring, you know,” Tently spoke up. “To try and get into different units. Most of the time, because… Sylvia is downright _terrifying…_ but some of them just don’t want to have to fight against you guys. You’re pretty great, you know? And we all really like you guys when we’re not fighting. You make us Watchdogs pretty happy when you’re around, and… I dunno, it’s dumb, but, it kinda lets me feel free, having the leeway you two bring around when you show up.”

 

“You help us out a lot. So… I guess what we’re trying to say is, thank you,” Marco said softly.

 

Wander made a high-pitched, extended “Aww” sound, and some of the Dogs started laughing, the somber mood broken as they started chirping him relentlessly over it. Peepers slumped in his seat, unsure of what he should do. He took several moments to weigh his options before he finally just stood up, walking back over to where he’d put down his helmet as the subject shifted to music. Steven, Calvin, and Greg were all asking him about how much he could play on his banjo, expressing interest in music themselves. He put his helmet back on and grabbed the strongest coffee they were serving at one of the stalls, intending to walk back to the meeting room to try and get any work done before the meeting proper could start.

 

“Oh, wow, what a surprise! Hey there, Mister Peepers!” he heard Wander call from where they were sitting. “You should come along and sit with us, then we can walk to the meeting at the same time!”

 

He looked over his shoulder. “No thanks!” he called, a little surprised to find that his tone didn’t contain any venom. “Make sure everyone is awake before you go, we have important work to do!”

 

“Sir yessir!” Wander called happily, waving goodbye. Peepers only barely caught himself before he could wave back.

 

Stop it, he chided himself. You have work to do. You can sit around a campfire and sing ‘Kumbaya’ later when nobody is at risk of death. You don’t have time for this.

 

He tried his best to shake off the feeling of warmth in his heart as walked away.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m so _bored,_ ” Hater groaned.

 

“Then go find some more beetles to fight, why don’t you?” Sylvia said, tone sharp, turning her gaze from the roof of the cavern. “Maybe after I have to save your hide from them again you’ll learn some flarpin’ respect and stop whining like a toddler.”

 

“…Rude,” Hater muttered.

 

“I heard that.”

 

“I know. That’s why I said it out loud.”

 

“Just stop talking, for the love of grop,” Sylvia groaned, eyes moving back up to the ceiling of the cavern. “Or at least find something less irritating than complaining to blabber on about.”

 

“I do not _blabber._ I’m just stating facts, and the fact is—“ His voice rose to a yell, echoing through the cave. “I’M BORED OUT OF MY SKULL!”

 

“Would you be _quiet!?_ If there’s anything down here it’s going to find us, dimwit!” Sylvia hissed at him.

 

“What _ever_. I’m tired of these stupid rocks and the stupid dark in this stupid cave on this stupid planet!”

 

“Cry me a river,” Sylvia said, eyes turned forward still. “Then maybe we’d have water to drink. Oh wait, we couldn’t drink it, because you never cease to be salty.”

 

Hater shut his mouth for a solid sixty seconds. Sylvia basked in the silence for all of that time, appreciating it fully.

 

“Still bored,” Hater muttered finally.

 

Sylvia only barely caught herself from swinging around and giving him a solid crack across the jaw. She forced a blatantly fake smile on her face, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, I know a good way to entertain you!” she said, voice dripping with false sweetness.

 

Hater looked at her hesitantly. “…What is it?” he finally asked.

 

She tilted her head up to the ceiling of the cavern again. “IF YOU WANDER—“ she started yelling.

 

“NO, DON’T YOU DARE—“

 

“OVER YONDER!” she continued, ignoring him. “AND CHECK OUT THIS AND THAT! ALL YOUR HELPFUL… FRIENDLY GOOD DEEDS!”

 

“THIS ISN’T ANY BETTER!”

 

“WILL SPREAD ACROSS THE LAND!”

 

“LITERALLY ANY OTHER SONG WOULD BE BETTER THAN THIS!” Hater yelled, annoyed, borderline desperate.

 

“Oh, yeah? Literally any other song? Are you sure about that?” she asked, smile widening. “I KNOW A SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY’S NERVES, EVERYBODY’S NERVES, GETS ON EVERYBODY’S NERVES—“

 

“STOP IT!”

 

“I KNOW A SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY’S NERVES, AND THIS IS HOW IT GOES~!”

 

“STOP SINGING, THIS IS SO STUPID—“

 

“Sorry, if you’re going to act like a child, then so am I,” Sylvia said simply. “I KNOW A SONG THAT GETS ON EVERYBODY’S NERVES—“

 

“I DO NOT DESERVE THIS!”

 

“ _EVERYBODY’S NERVES, GETS ON EVERYBODY’S NERVES!”_

 

Their combined yelling continued to echo through the caverns for quite some time.

 

* * *

 

 

The group that had gathered all stared at the board as the Watchdog up front finished speaking.

 

“—and so with this array, losses are at a maximum five percent casualties, as only a tenth of the Dogs would be going beneath that key fifth layer and so would be out of range of communicators. Spread out and coordinated, all armed, and—special thanks to Calvin on this part of the plan—the rope system holding us all together.”

 

Peepers looked over at Nathan. “How does the math check out?”

 

Nathan stared down at the piece of paper he was scribbling on, squinting. “We’d need to weigh the ropes down periodically, a minimum of… two hundred pounds or so. Otherwise…” He breathed a sigh of relief. “It checks out. It really, really does. Five percent casualties, which meets standards for board approval by a whopping three percent.”

 

Peepers relaxed, looking relieved. “So it’s settled. Sure-fire plan, any final suggestions on the matter before we approve this thing?”

 

The room was silent, Watchdogs shaking their head wordlessly.

 

“Great. Motion passed. Now we just have to draft up the list of Watchdogs we’re sending and—“

 

“No.”

 

Eyes turned to the end of the table. Peepers blinked, looking over at Wander, whose eyes were wide with worry, expression tight with dismay. The look on his face could only be described as “determined”.

 

“There has got to be a better plan,” Wander insisted.

 

The Dogs sitting around the table exchanged looks, cautious. “This is the best one we’ve thought of, what are you talking about?” asked Calvin to one side of Peepers, confusion clear in his expression.

 

“But… five percent casualties?” Wander asked, voice soft. “There’s gotta be some way where nobody has to get hurt, Mister Peepers! I refuse to accept those odds!”

 

“Look, you’re in charge of the search and rescue squad’s coordination, and if everything goes right, then it might end up with even better odds, the projections are just factoring in the highest—“

 

“I can’t do this plan,” Wander said, some kind of finality in his voice.

 

“Yes, you can,” Peepers said, sitting forward. “You’ve got experience in this type of mission and I know for a fact that there’s a chance of pulling it off without major casualties.”

 

“But I can’t.”

 

“You’re our best bet right now.”

 

“But I don’t WANT to.”

 

There was a beat of silence in the room. Peepers glanced around the table. All eyes were on him.

 

“Clear the room,” Peepers said. Wary glances exchanged across the table. “Now.”

 

The room emptied within about three seconds. Peepers stood up calmly and hopped onto the table.

 

“What…the GROP do you think you’re doing!?” he yelled, rage peeking through his usually businesslike exterior.

 

“I—I just—“ Wander stammered.

 

“Do you think this is a joke?! Some kind of game!?” he bellowed, fists clenched. “This isn’t playtime in sunshine meadows, you hyperactive nutcase! Every minute we waste doing this song and dance trying to think of a better plan, that’s another minute gone by where they could be dying! As far as we know, they’re lying injured at the bottom of a crevice dying by inches of hunger and waiting for rescue! We need to take some risks to get results, don’t you get that?! If we don’t act soon their odds will get worse and worse until finally they end up dead underground! This won’t be fixed by playing nice, we can’t waste our time on being friendly when there are LIVES on the line! You were SO prepared to go barreling into things all alone, completely willing to get hurt or killed in the process, but oh, when SOLDIERS doing their JOB get involved to try the EXACT SAME THING with BETTER ODDS, it’s suddenly a different ballgame!”

 

“It’s not about better odds!” Wander replied, standing up. “I know I could get hurt, I know I could get just as lost! But _one person_ putting themselves on the line to help two is different than putting _forty_ on the line to help two!”

 

“Lord Hater is our leader! If we’re talking risk/reward, then he’s worth at least _fifty_ Watchdogs, if not more!”

 

“No! Nobody’s life is worth any more than anyone else’s, Peepers!” Wander returned, and for the first time, Peepers thought he might be seeing genuine anger. “I’m willing to get hurt helping folks, because one is worth less than one or more, and that’s a risk I choose to take each and every day! But you CANNOT force your troops to put their safety on the line based on some fabricated notion that any one individual is worth more than another! If it was you stuck down there, how many Watchdogs would Hater send down after you!? Are you worth half a Hater? Eight foot soldiers? Two doctors? You are worth ONE PERSON, and I’M worth ONE PERSON, and NOBODY deserves to live MORE or LESS than ANYONE ELSE. If we’re going to start tagging folks based on how many lives they’re worth, well, we’re not that far off from slavery, are we, _Commander_ , sir?”

 

“Stop it! Don’t try and take the moral high ground here!” Peepers returned sharply. “This is what these soldiers signed up for! This is what they do, you idiot!”

 

“I’m not doing this plan. I am NOT doing it,” Wander said firmly.

 

“Ugh! You stubborn, stupid, delusional, single-minded, overdramatic piece of—“ Peepers felt his voice rising in aggravation, but somewhere in the back of his head the alarms started ringing. He stared for a few long moments at the nomad, saw the determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw. And the familiarity was astounding. He blinked once, surprise jolting him into awareness, and he remembered where he was, what they were talking about. For a moment he had forgotten what was going on, fallen back into habits. His anger fell away in that single blink, in that single moment. “You’re just like Hater,” Peepers realized aloud, his voice suddenly quiet.

 

Wander blinked, then over the course of the next few moments slowly but surely relaxed, a smile finding his face again. “I know,” he finally said. “And you’re just like Sylvia.”

 

Peepers bristled. “ _Excuse_ me?”

 

Wander’s smile fell into comfort again. “You started out one way, and your pal pulled you somewhere else on the moral spectrum because you thought you needed guidance. You perceived your friend to be stronger than you in some way that you admired so you chose to follow them, and somewhere along the way you ended up protecting them more than they protect you, finding your own strengths once you had some point of comparison, a mirror to hold up to.” Wander rocked on his heels. “You’re just like Sylvia,” he repeated.

 

Peepers felt like he’d gone cold, being so efficiently deconstructed from the inside out, felt vulnerable for a long, scary moment. “What are you talking about?” he asked, feigning confusion.

 

Wander shrugged. “All I’m sayin’ is that you have a whole lot of potential, and you chose to dedicate it to your friend and his ideals,” he said happily. “If you wanted to, you could’ve probably taken over the galaxy all by yourself, just you and your Watchdogs. Or maybe you could’ve brought peace to a whole bunch of the galaxy. You still could, probably. Hater’s the reason you wanted to start being evil, I think.” His smile widened slightly. “Same way I pulled Sylvia over to be a do-gooder like myself. She has a lot of potential to be a good person, and I helped her find it.”

 

Peepers felt tense. “Is that your plan, then? To make everyone a good person, one by one?” he asked, voice tight. “You’re going to make me a good person after you turn over Hater to the ‘side of the light’ or whatever?”

 

“You’re already a good person,” Wander said simply. “You just do some bad things. And I’m not tryin’ to convert anybody, Mister Peepers.” He hopped off of his chair and made his way to the door, and it hissed open to meet him. He stopped in the threshold, smiling over his shoulder at the commander. “I just wanna be his friend is all.”

 

The door hissed shut behind him and Peepers was left in the conference room, staring at nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

Wander left the conference room, and he was surprised to see the group of Watchdogs all clustered outside, frozen, looking shocked beyond words.

 

Wander glanced over his shoulder at the door, then back down at them again. “Um… heya,” he said, a little awkwardly. “Did… did y’all hear all that?”

 

“Just the first part,” said the Watchdog in front, Calvin was his name. “You… you really… think we’re worth that much?”

 

“Yeah, ‘course you are,” Wander said without hesitation, nodding.

 

“Just as much as Peepers, or Hater, or… or even yourself?” another spoke up, voice quiet.

 

“Definitely.”

 

A moment of silence fell, Watchdogs all looking at each other, looking back up at Wander. The few Watchdogs in front turned to each other, voices falling down into whispers, glancing up at Wander occasionally as they talked amongst themselves. The murmurs travelled backwards, and a conclusion seemed to be reached, all of them nodding decisively between each other. Calvin stepped forward. “We would like to volunteer to go on the mission to save Lord Hater and your friend Sylvia!” he barked confidently, voice falling into military neutrality.

 

Wander was surprised, looking between them, a smile cutting across his face. “Wait, really? Really really?”

 

“Yes, sir!” most of the Watchdogs barked.

 

Wander looked embarrassed for a few seconds, tugging on the brim of his hat. “Y’all know you don’t have to, I’ll be just fine going on my own, and—“

 

“One is worth one, right?” piped up one of the Dogs. “Well, I’m one. And as an entire individual, I’ve decided to go and help save them.”

 

“Me too,” another echoed from elsewhere in the crowd.

 

“Me too!” from somewhere in the back. All of the Watchdogs quickly jumped in, all shouting out in commitment. Wander tried to wave them down again quickly, looking around, seeming amazed.

 

“We’re not going because we have to, we’re going because we want to. We know the danger, but we think that it’s well worth it!” Calvin said, puffing out his chest.

 

“Well… if you all know what you’re getting into, then that sounds alright with me,” Wander said, standing up straighter, head held high. “Round everyone up in the loading bay that wants to go, and make sure everyone is completely ready to go! If we all work together and believe that we can do it, well, I think we can really pull this off!”

 

A cheer rose from the gathered Watchdogs, and they began to filter out quickly, all of them moving at a run and looking excited for the mission at hand. As the troops passed by him, he was gently jostled by pats on the shoulder and words of encouragement or enthusiasm, all of the Watchdogs looking as happy as could be with the situation.

 

He followed in the crowd, beaming, head held high, eyes alight with determination.

 

* * *

 

 

Sylvia stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. Hater nearly tripped over himself at the sudden stop, and the grumbling was immediate, although Sylvia was definitely not listening to him at that moment in time.

 

“Turn around,” she said, tone even, direct.

 

“What?” Now he was confused.

 

“Turn around and tell me if there’s anything back there,” Sylvia repeated, not moving a single muscle.

 

Hater hesitated for a few moments before he did so. He was instantly jumping backwards, swearing profusely up and down. “What the narfin’ flap _are_ those!?” he hissed, back to back with her now, sounding horrified.

 

“I don’t know.” Sylvia said as she squinted, and despite her eyes having long since adjusted to the dark, she couldn’t make out the creatures very well. Reptilian, looking oily… no, waxy. Scales that had a sheen but didn’t shine, reflected but didn’t glitter. A little smaller than Wander, thicker than a Watchdog, almost… like frogs, but _wrong._ Carnivorous. That’s the word, carnivorous. Teeth, and really dark in tone, and clearly almost blind, and completely silent, the rise and fall of their chests the only movement to show that they were alive at all. Sylvia’s eyes trailed from the ground upward to where they clung to the walls, and she cursed herself quietly as she realized that she definitely should’ve noticed them sooner. If only it wasn’t so dark, then maybe…

 

Sylvia felt the hair of her head rise and she saw the flickering of green on the walls. Hater seemed like he was ready to put up a fight. She shook herself out of her shock. “Wait,” she said quietly. “First we should see if we can get out of this unscathed.”

 

“By making the first move, we’ll be getting the jump on them,” Hater returned from behind her, sounding like he was practically spring-loaded.

 

The things were inching forward now, seeming curious, but definitely not friendly just yet. She couldn’t sense even a little bit of intelligence from them. Just animals, then. She shifted on her feet, moving so she was standing sideways, one flank to Hater, the other to the beasts. She didn’t take her eyes off of them. “Hey. How loudly do you think you can make it thunder?” she asked quietly.

 

He was quiet for a second, thinking it over. He shifted slightly, seeming to get what she was going for. “Very. I’m pretty impressive, in case you somehow forgot,” he replied.

 

“Give me some kind of signal so I can cover my eyes and ears before you do. We’re moving the same direction that we were before,” Sylvia said quietly. “I’ll take the left, you think you’ll be good running and defending on the right?”

 

Hater scoffed. “Oh please. Just try and keep up with me. Three, two…”

 

Sylvia reached up and covered her ears, shutting her eyes tightly, but the boom and flash that followed, when echoed and reverberated through the cavern, was still blinding through her eyelids, deafening despite her bracing for it. She had heard live cannonfire on more than one occasion, and she’d describe it as that, but harsher and magnified. She was off and sprinting right away, and despite the ringing in her ears she could still make out the sounds of shrieking in surprise and fear, and she felt the creatures shying away to the sides of the pathway as she ran. About thirty feet away from where they’d started running and she could tell they were free of the crowd at least. She didn’t turn to look and see if they were being pursued just yet, knowing they would take another few moments before they recovered and made chase if anything at all. But she also realized pretty quickly that Hater was _not_ fast.

 

“OH, COME ON!” she shouted in irritation as she realized he’d been lagging behind. She whipped her tail and wrapped it around his torso, yanking him onto her back and taking off at a run again.

 

He seemed pretty shocked. “What the grop are you doing? Why are you helping me!?” she could just hear over the ringing in her ears.

 

“You gotta keep up somehow, stupid!” Sylvia said, eyes narrowed at the path ahead of them, praying for it to stay relatively straightforward. “And, unlike you, I won’t abandon someone just because it makes my life easier!”

 

 _“But why though?”_  he persisted, despite the fact that he was now gripping the reins like a life raft to keep on board.

 

“Because my friend helped me figure out what being a good person is all about, and I know better now!” she said firmly. “But if you really want me to drop you that badly, just say the word, you’re not exactly a feather duster like my usual passenger!”

 

She could practically hear him gritting his teeth, but he turned in his seat, playing sentry to make sure they were in the clear. “We’re not friends, and we’re not going to be friends just because you gave me a lift,” he said after a few seconds of deliberation. “Just wanted to make that perfectly clear.”

 

“Whatever,” Sylvia muttered, jolting him slightly harder than absolutely necessary as the tunnel made a slight turn in direction. Her mood improved immensely as she saw that they were definitely starting to move upwards now, the lights of the ground getting fainter, but the lights in the ceiling now revealing themselves more fully. “Aha! We’re on our way!” she said, satisfied. “We’re gonna make it, whether you like it or not, I helped save your life!”

 

“What!? No way! You didn’t help at all! If anything, it was _me_ that saved _you!_ So, uh, you’re _welcome._ Try and hold the applause,” Hater said stubbornly.

 

“Wow, that’s such a nice thing for you to do, friend!” Sylvia said, voice cheerful.

 

“…Wait. No. Hold on,” Hater said, realizing his mistake as Sylvia started snickering. “I saved myself, and you saved yourself, and we did not save each other. We lived due to efforts entirely independent of each other. That’s what happened. Nothing else. _Stop laughing._ ”

 

“You know, you remind me of Wander in a couple of ways,” Sylvia said conversationally.

 

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Hater huffed, sounding annoyed.

 

“You’re both total dummies,” Sylvia said with a grin.

  
“Is that so?” Hater asked, voice dripping with venom. “Well, you remind me of C-Peeps, so how’s that for your comparison chart?”

 

She bristled. “What the heck could we possibly have in common?” she asked, annoyed.

 

“You’re both bossy and boring,” Hater said, sounding proud of himself.

 

“Oh, whatever. Your fault for needing someone to tell you how to do every little thing,” Sylvia snorted. She slowed slightly, eyes to the ceiling and walls as she tried to make out any tunnels upward.

 

“…Touché,” Hater said after a few seconds.

 

“Let’s agree to disagree and try and play a nice round of the quiet game, does that sound good?” Sylvia asked.

 

“Whatever. We’re not friends and you’re not the boss of me,” Hater said with an air of finality.

 

“If it helps you sleep at night, you stupid frood,” Sylvia muttered. “Okay, quiet game, ready set go.”

 

The caverns were filled only with the sound of feet pattering against the ground as the two slowly but surely made their way upwards towards the surface. Sylvia dared to think for a moment that maybe this would really work out after all.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, so we have eight, nine… one thirty-nine, is everyone accounted for? Nobody left out, napping on the job, out to lunch?” called Calvin over the crowd of Watchdogs that had showed up. He got a general holler of assent and he turned to Wander. “Looks like everyone that’s anyone is here and accounted for, sir!” he said happily.

 

“Oh, no need for the ‘sir’, we’re friends here!” Wander laughed as he helped finish off the knots on one of the Watchdogs. “Alrighty, everyone remember their number? We’re leaving in ten minutes, that means that if anyone forgot anything, now’s the time to go ahead and get it before we go!”

 

The Dogs all milled around, tying knots quickly and double-checking their harnesses. The groups they had divided into all stood in their sections, making sure they were all ready.

 

“I think that Jesús was the last guy in Group Delta, we just need Groups Epsilon and Eta to approve their harnesses as ready and we’re all good to go,” Calvin said, looking down at his list.

 

“Hold on just a second!”

 

The Watchdogs in the group Wander was in all looked up. A Dog in glasses and a white coat was marching towards them, looking ready to kill. Wander’s smile fell into a look of surprise and slight fear, and he visibly gulped. Calvin let out a small laugh that he poorly disguised as a cough as Dr. Grey marched directly up to him, looking him up and down once, clearly annoyed.

 

“Thought you could skip out on the physical I was supposed to give you ten minutes from now, huh, wise guy?” Dr. Grey asked, tone sharp. The Dogs gathered all looked at Wander, who smiled sheepishly.

 

“Uh, no, that’s not at all what I was doing! The two times just happened to overlap and I decided that I could just go later on, as I’m sure you’re already real busy and—“

 

The doctor pulled from his coat a tablet and pressed it to the nomad’s chest, waiting for a few seconds. “Huh, funny, would you look at that. Those two ribs are still fractured, just like how you explained they totally weren’t. Funny.” Dr. Grey’s glasses flashed dangerously. “Thought I wouldn’t know better, did you? Just because my equipment wasn’t calibrated, thought it’d slip past me, huh?”

 

Wander would’ve paled if he could. “Um, I had no idea that—“ Grey held up a single hand, cutting him off, with a look. His shoulders slumped and he looked at the floor. “Alright, you got me,” he admitted finally. “I just wanted to get to helping save them is all, I’m fine, honest I am, I just can’t afford to waste any time by—“

 

Dr. Grey shoved a bottle of water and a small plastic baggie into his hands calmly. “Down those and at least half the bottle of water. If you haven’t eaten in the past twelve hours, here—“ Two sandwiches wrapped in plastic shoved into his other hand. “—you’re not leaving for the next half an hour, and if I see a single flinch before you leave, I’m going to wrap you up again whether you like it or not.”

 

Wander looked up at the doctor, confused. “You’re… you’re not mad?”

 

“Oh, I’m _super_ mad. I am just so flarping mad that you would not believe how mad I am even if I tried to tell you. Untreated injuries aren’t a joke and I will _not_ take them lightly. I don’t know what kind of doctor taught you to be scared of treatment, but point me in their direction, I’ll be sure to set the record straight, oath or no oath.” Dr. Grey huffed, straightening his labcoat sharply, turning on heel and leaving again. “The nerve of some people, trying to waltz off on a rescue mission with busted up ribs, stupid hero types with their narfin’ death wishes, wanna be a martyr so bad, dumb froods can’t learn their limits like sensible people, oh no, that makes too much _groppin’ sense doesn’t it,_ a bunch of crazy little…”

 

Wander watched the doctor leave, blinking, unsure of what exactly to make of the situation now. Most of the Watchdogs were just chuckling and returning to their conversations now though, so Wander just smiled and did as he was instructed. The pain started to ebb pretty quickly, and he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

 

Maybe this would really work out after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [never again. never again do you let me write this many. please just never again.  
> so yeah we're almost done with this, almost to the end. nearly there. then i return to fast, lighthearted installments as we had previously. shoutout to the coolkids on tumblr for handing out names for the Dawgs like they were cheap cigars, really saved me there. come yell at me on that website (@thetriggeredhappy in case you didnt pay attention to previous A/Ns which you probs didnt like i wouldnt either im boring) because i am always down to yell about these kids at literally all hours of the day. or in comments because those make me v v happy. kthanks now im just gonna go start on the responsibilities i shirked to do this, bye]


	10. The Ol' Switcharoo, the Final Switchening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those boys are at it again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i have no excuse.]

 

“I don’t know, but I’ve been told!”

 

“I don’t know, but I’ve been told!”

 

“Most‘a space is mighty cold!”

 

“Most‘a space is mighty cold!”

 

“Sound off!”

 

“ONE, TWO!”

 

“Sound off!”

 

“THREE, FOUR!”

 

“Sound off!”

 

“ONE TWO three four one two—“

 

Wander marched alongside the Watchdogs, calling out the cadences over their heads. His ability to improvise music was really coming in handy in the call-and-response business. “I don’t know, but so I’ve heard!” he called.

 

“I don’t know, but so I’ve heard!”

 

“Space is massive and absurd!”

 

“Space is massive and absurd!”

 

“Sound off!”

 

“ONE, TWO!”

 

“Sound off!”

 

“THREE, FOUR!”

 

“Sound off!”

 

“ONE, TWO three four one two—“

 

“I ain’t smart, but so I’ve gleaned!”

 

“I ain’t smart, but so I’ve gleaned!”

 

“Ain’t no mess that can’t be cleaned!”

 

“Ain’t no mess that can’t be cleaned!”

 

The sound of the Watchdogs’ amicable call resounded over the desolation, and the planet seemed to get just a bit warmer.

 

* * *

 

 

Peepers stared out of the Skullship’s command center at the small crowd marching away silently. The other Watchdogs had long since stopped doing whatever job they had previously and they instead crowded in the command center, crowding the windows to see outside but giving the Commander a wide berth.

 

“So what’s their plan?” asked one to another, shocked. “What’re they going to do?”

 

“Find Lord Hater. Duh,” the other replied, rolling his eye.

 

“My money’s on them never coming back out,” said the first.

 

The Watchdogs gathered near enough to hear him laughed. Peepers moved away from the window, and Watchdogs moved into the space he had occupied quickly.

 

The ranks broke into smaller groups outside, and after a few moments of pause, the first all converged on one point and disappeared. The Watchdogs observing babbled excitedly amongst themselves at the spectacle. One started whistling a funeral march and earned a collective laugh.

 

“WATCHDOGS, EYES UP!”

 

They broke into ranks instinctively, turning to face the sound. Peepers stood on the balcony above, looking down at them. He moved his gaze over the crowd, and any amusement at the situation dissipated almost instantly. He finally pointed at one soldier in particular, who promptly began shaking in his boots.

 

“You. Find Andy and tell him he needs to be here two minutes ago.” The Dog nodded and began shuffling away meekly. _“On the double, soldier!”_ The Dog sprinted out of the room at full speed. Peepers snapped his gaze back to the crowd before him. “Alright. Anyone who isn’t supposed to be stationed in here, _get out._ Go back to your posts, this isn’t a vacation. I want everyone on high alert. Dismissed.” About two-thirds of the crowd dashed out the door. The remaining Watchdogs stared up fearfully.

 

Peepers watched the last of the Dogs filter out and he looked down from his perch. “Alright. Someone get on finding their radio channels.” One Dog broke off and darted to his station. “Everyone else, I want surveillance and data on the planet. If anything changes, I want to know about it. Understood?” The Watchdogs nodded amongst themselves. “I _said_. _Understood!?”_

 

“SIR YES SIR!” they all barked tensely.

 

“Move, we don’t have all millennium!” They all went to their posts, and Peepers sat in the command chair, glaring at anyone who looked up from their screen for more than a moment. Andy ran into the room, breathing heavily.

 

“Sir, you… _huff_ … you needed to… needed to see me?” he panted, saluting weakly.

 

“If we can get a visual— _come on Jack, this is_ your _job!—_ then I want you to broadcast it across the ship. We can’t have everyone crowding around the windows.”

 

“What, like—like on my show?” Andy stammered, blinking.

 

“No, we’re taking home videos to show the kids when they’re all grown up— _yes on your show, come on, use your brain._ ”

 

“Of—of course, sir! Right away, sir! Thank you, sir!” Andy beamed, dashing over to fiddle with the console and chattering with the Dog who was supposed to be working it.

 

“Now if these idiots can actually make it out alive, we’ll have everything covered,” Peepers sighed to himself, rubbing his eye. He watched out the window, grimly, as the last group disappeared below the surface of the planet.

 

* * *

 

  

“All I’m saying—“

 

“We don’t even have a fire. Or a pot. _Or water._ We can’t. Make. Soup.”

 

“No, we don’t _need_ a stupid fire, I can just zap it with my spooky cool lightning and—“

 

“Hater. I can _promise_ you that isn’t how cooking works.”

 

“Well, we won’t know if we don’t at least try, will we!?”

 

“If you eat the moss, you’re going to die, and I’m not even going to be mad. Just annoyed, because Wander would expect me to carry your body to the surface.”

 

This was probably the fifth argument they’d gotten in since the caverns had started showing variation, and Sylvia was really hoping it was the last. Hater had the incredible talent of getting on Sylvia’s last nerve, then destroying it and somehow finding another.

 

“Listen, I’m hungry and annoyed,” he grumbled in annoyance.

 

“That makes two of us.”

 

“I’m going to lick the moss.”

 

“Don’t.”

 

Hater stopped walking entirely the second she spoke, glaring at her. She glared right back.

 

“Hater,” she said levelly. “Don’t.”

 

He reached sideways towards the lichen growing on the side of the cavern, not breaking eye contact.

 

“Don’t.”

 

He grabbed a handful, pulling it off the wall and holding it next to his head..

 

_“Don’t.”_

 

He started slowly moving it towards his mouth, sticking out his tongue, eyes narrowed.

 

_“Hater, don’t you dare—“_

 

He licked the moss.

 

As the sound of retching and gagging filled the space, Sylvia wondered where her life first began going wrong. Was it when she left home? When she started doing space-crime? Probably the day that she decided to go to this planet. That was a bad call on her part, and she was willing to accept responsibility for that.

 

And then the rumbling started.

 

* * *

 

 

Wander skidded to a stop as he felt the ground quake slightly. He and the Watchdogs held on to one another to keep balance, and it passed pretty quickly. “Huh,” Wander said with vague surprise. “Alrighty then.”

 

“Should we like… worry about that?” came a voice from the back.

 

“Absolutely,” Wander said solemnly. The Watchdogs looked at one another with fear. “…What if the rumblies made them trip and fall!? They could get real hurt! Or, if a rock fell down, that would be terrible too!” He started moving again, pace much quicker, tugging along the Watchdogs behind him. “No time to dittle-dattle, we need to rescue ‘em!”

 

“Hold on!” Calvin yelped, holding his walkie-talkie close to listen to it. “…Okay, so we just have one more level down to go then we just cover as much ground as possible. Everyone else is already looking, but, nobody else knows what that shaking was either.”

 

“One more level down, got it!” Wander said, tugging impatiently. The Watchdogs all followed his lead down the tunnel, which was getting progressively wider.

 

They found themselves standing at the edge of some sort of pit, on the other side of which was a tunnel to continue downwards. The maw of the thing was well-worn by time and a few of them got vertigo and shuffled everyone backwards. They indulged in a few moments of despair before they all began spitballing plans, some way to make a bridge or cover the pit in order to get across, but all they had was themselves and rope and there was no way they could—

 

But Wander was already moving among the crowd, setting them in a 2-person wide line, the end of the rope looping back around so the end was next to him at the front. He waved a hand in the air to get everyone’s attention, whistling loudly. When he had all eyes on him, he smiled, raising his voice. “Okay, now on the count of three we’re gonna run as fast as we can and jump!”

 

“We’re gonna what?”

 

“On the count of three! Ready?”

 

“Wait, no, Wander, that’s like fifteen horizontal feet we can’t just—“

 

“One, two, three!”

 

Despite their protests they jolted into action, panicked expressions on their faces. He and the last Dog in the line jumped, and soared and fell and tumbled for maybe two feet down into the tunnel on the other side before they were wrenched backwards.

 

The sound of panicked screaming echoed through the cavern, and he scrambled up, looking behind him with wide eyes.

 

The two Watchdogs that were behind him were hanging onto the lip of the tunnel, straining under the weight of their fellows. Wander’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the section of rope just behind him and began to pull.

 

The other Watchdog caught on quick, and together they strained against the weight of all the Watchdogs threatening to fall and pull everyone down with them. While at least now the two at the edge seemed to be under less strain, they were clearly having trouble. The yells of fear had dulled into simply panicked shouting to one another. Wander’s grip slipped for a split second and he felt the entire weight jolting at the loss. He stifled a whine of pain as suddenly his arm seemed to flare, the place where the fracture had been apparently not fully healed and it _hurt._ It hurt _really, really_ badly. The Dogs all yelled as one unit as they jolted. There was an echo of stone clattering far, far below them.

 

He realized in that moment that this wasn’t a challenge meant for him. Sylvia was strong. Sylvia could lift all of these Watchdogs up with one arm if she wanted. She was the one who could lift and fight and make it through dark caverns and –

 

The Watchdog at his side yelped in terror as his feet skidded on a loose rock and he almost went down. Wander shook his head, dispelling the thought. No, he could be strong too. He could do this. He had to do this. He shifted his grip, bent his knees, tried to channel what little Sylvia had been able to teach him. He steadied himself and in one solid motion, he pulled.

 

A beat of fear, a yelp as they jolted, scrabbling at the edge, and finally the two Watchdogs were able to get over the lip and turn to help pull too. The Watchdogs below all made a collective cheer of hope. They were gonna be okay!

 

Wander’s expression was unfocused, and he desperately tried to blink away the darkness that crept in at the edge of his vision, threatening to knock him out. His knees shook, his breathing came in short and shallow breaths, his good arm was pulling at the rope mostly just to keep him standing now. He cradled his other arm to his chest instinctively. He was used to injuries—they were a given when you travelled the universe. But that didn’t make this less painful. That was not a clean break. That was definitely splintering. He couldn’t move his fingers. A wave of nausea passed over him, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He processed numbly that the next set of Dogs was nearly standing now. He tripped over his feet and swayed slightly in place when he found it again. He couldn’t see much through the spots in his vision.

 

He was moving backwards progressively faster. They didn’t need help being pulled up anymore, the Watchdogs had it under control. They were fine now. Everyone was okay. Finally, Wander allowed his grip on the rope to slack and, now standing on his own power, promptly passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

Hater yanked on the reins and Sylvia yelped in protest. “There! Right there! I can hear sound again!” he said with unnecessary volume.

 

Sylvia stopped rubbing her now-sore neck and listened for a few long seconds. She could hear something too, actually. And… feel it, in her feet. Rumbling. A nearby tunnel collapsing, maybe, or a series of stalactites shattering.

 

“…Cool?” she said, confusion in her tone. “Why should we care??”

 

“Because… well why wouldn’t we care!!!” Hater finally hollered defensively.

 

“Don’t yank the reins like that again,” Sylvia warned, starting to walk again, and despite her brushing it off, the rumbling… didn’t seem to be stopping. She focused on it for a few moments, trying to gauge where it was coming from. She couldn’t really figure out much.

 

Then she heard an echoing _crack,_ the kind of thing that’s so fast and loud you’re left dizzy, and the solid stone under her feet shifted and that’s not how stone is supposed to work and—

 

She had glanced over her shoulder a few moments ago and it was only her long-trained battle muscles that kept her alive, because it took her another few seconds after she started running to process the churning teeth and realize that the rumbling was more of a _crunch_ sound and oh my grop, they found the worm guy.

 

Hater was definitely screaming and would probably insist later that he wasn’t, and Sylvia was still dizzy and didn’t even know where she was trying to run but her options were the worm or not the worm so she was pretty confident in her choice.

 

And she realized a few moments later that she heard someone else screaming, too.

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t. Panic.” Calvin was shaking too, but nobody called him out on it (most being too busy flipping out anyways). “Listen, this isn’t a good time to panic! We just—we gotta get ‘im topside or something, but we can’t do that if we’re freaking out, no, guys, listen—“

 

Several of them stopped running as that shaking nearly sent them tumbling. Over the noise, a few suddenly heard something.

 

“Is… is that screaming?” one Dog asked hesitantly. Calvin’s eye widened, and then he was screaming too.

 

“LORD HATER! SYLVIA! WE’RE OVER HERE! LORD HATER SIR, SYLVIA!” he called at the top of his lungs, and the other Dogs joined him. The sound was growing louder, but… so was the shaking. The ground was starting to splinter at their feet, suddenly lilting to one side or another like the waves of an ocean.

 

Then the worm roared.

 

* * *

 

 

Sylvia was practically deafened already by the time the worm started yelling, and she scowled, trying her best to scope out the tunnel ahead as she kept running towards where the screaming was.

 

She rounded a bend and there, almost half a kilometer ahead, were… a bunch of… Watchdogs? And… was that Wander? Why was he knocked out!?

 

Then she saw the pit, then the fear on their faces as the worm rounded the bend another quarter-kilometer behind them, and if she hadn’t been so out of breath she would’ve sighed in exasperation.

 

She slid to a stop and surveyed the situation. Good, tied together, that made all this a whole lot easier. She unsnapped the rope from Wander and grabbed the rope near the middle, ignoring the incessant babbling that the Dogs were doing. And Hater was yelling too now. They were all literal children. This was her actual life.

 

She yanked on the rope and sent the Dogs stumbling, then the other direction, until she finally built up momentum enough to have them like a lasso—and one throw and they were across the gap.

 

She scooped up Wander and shoved him (carefully) to Hater. “Drop him, I throw you to the worm,” she threatened with the calmness that made him 100% sure that she really would and so he didn’t shove him off.

 

(Literal children.)

 

The worm was much too close for comfort, close enough that she could feel the wave of hot air it pushed just ahead of itself, and so she decided it was about time for her to take her leave. She shifted her weight and leaned forward and ran and _jumped_ —

 

For one terrible second, she thought she didn’t make it. Not enough momentum. They would fall short. They would smack into the stone below the wall and plummet the rest of the way down. This was it. Her adventures ended here in a gross, dark, insect-infested cavern with her enemy on her back holding her friend, and she would quite literally fall short. This was it.

 

Something in the air shifted. The wave of air pushed a bit harder. Her weight carried her a bit farther. Gravity seemed a bit lower.

 

And she landed (clumsily, but remaining upright), and somewhere behind her something fractured and the worm tunneled not into them, but into the wall below. Once the mass had gone by (what felt like a thousand years, but was probably more like a minute or so), she realized that the tunnel they were just in had collapsed into a larger cavern below it, the floor giving way and dropping the beast downwards.

 

They got lucky.

 

Sylvia’s stomach rumbled.

 

* * *

 

 

What happened next was a rush of events. Hater hopping down and trying to bark orders before being up and nannied by all of the Dogs, the Dogs sweeping up Wander and rushing to get him topside, someone handing her a wrapped sandwich (not even any meat on it but flarp was she hungry). Them ascending level by level and their ragtag group turning into a small army, then sunlight for the first time in (apparently) almost 24 hours. Not as nice as when they left.

 

Peepers being at the front of the welcoming committee, and looking for all the world like he was so relieved he would cry, but the moment Hater was actually in front of him he went off like nobody had ever seen and like nobody would ever see again, and eventually when he stopped he would have his voice gone for almost a week.

 

Wander (under the incredible medicinal prowess of the Watchdogs) woke up. One of the Dogs (“Dr. Grey,” as the Dogs whispered with a horror and reverence usually reserved for minor dieties) looked ready to know Wander right back out again, but finally handed over a small vial of something… something. “I had to pull some pretty old books and break out the herbology,” the doctor deadpanned, “but here you go. Drink it all, avoid acidic foods or excessive heat for the next twelve hours.”

 

Wander took the vial, looked inside at the watery but opaque, dark violet substance within, and finally looked up again. He was smiling. “I—I dunno what to say,” he murmured gratefully.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dr. Grey said, waving one hand dismissively and turning to walk away. “Just down the thing before I break out the needles.”

 

Wander downed it in one gulp without hesitation.

 

He would be feeling right as rain within twenty minutes.

 

From the crowd of Watchdogs, Sylvia got a full meal and then some, as well as some leftovers to save for later. They were all very grateful to her, and all wanted to shake her hand. She was pretty sure some of them were just hoping to be on the friendly side of those fists for once. Andy even offered her up a talkspot on his show, a full special on the ordeal. She politely refused for both her and Wander when he wasn’t looking.

 

One of the Dogs mentioned to her quietly that Peepers had agreed to call off hunting them down for 48 hours and that they should probably get going. With that, she began herding Wander away from the Watchdogs and over the course of almost half an hour he said some of his goodbyes.

 

“And make sure to tell Mister Commander Peepers that I said thank you for havin’ me!” he shouted over his shoulder as Sylvia bubbled them.

 

The crowd all waved until she couldn’t see them anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

The next month, several dozen Watchdogs received promotions far ahead of schedule. None of them realized that they just happened to be the volunteers for the mission and the ones who helped them out.

 

Peepers, had you asked him, would’ve said he had nothing to do with it whatsoever.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the best part is that i genuinely have more ideas for this show i just couldn't work past this chapter. like. how does that even work? but yeah i'm alive and still love this show to bits and hope you enjoyed this chapter because im never looking at it ever again yall cant make me. thank you for sticking with me, it's been good,, hopefully i'll not take another 11 months to write the next one]


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